After The Incident
by bobt
Summary: Jack is caught in between two timelines; one in 1977 on the Island, the other in 2004 in Los Angeles; an "Alternate" timeline created after Jughead exploded. Daniel Faraday attempts to bridge the 2 realities together and ultimately save the Island.
1. The Awakening

_x  
>x<br>Hey All! A little explanation before I get started. _This is an alternate version beginning just after the Incident (hence the title...). It varies from the original because it's based upon Faraday's theory that if a large event is allowed to occur in the past, such as Jughead exploding, it could alter the future.  
><em>_

___One important change I must explain; instead of mysteriously transporting to 2004 on the Island after the Jughead explosion, the Losties (Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Hurley, Jin, Juliet) remain in 1977._  
><em>_

_The main character of the story is Theresa Spencer; you may remember her in the actual show. She was with Daniel Faraday at his Oxford graduation, and was visited by Desmond Hume in Season 5. At that time, she was in a comatose state being taken care of by her sister. Apparently, something terrible happened in one of Daniel's science experiments that caused her condition, and may have contributed to Daniel's memory loss. Like Desmond Hume, she too is somebody extremely special and in a unique position to bridge the necessary gaps between time and consciousness._

_I hope you enjoy the ride; I must warn you, it will be long. Stick with it. The answers will come. And so, the story begins where everything began and ended, at the very source of it all; the hatch. I'll begin with a quote from Daniel's physics journal; a message written to him from his Mother who desperately hoped he was the key to averting his own death, and perhaps the death of many others:  
><em>

_Daniel,_  
><em>No matter what, remember,<em>  
><em>I will always love you.<em>  
><em>-Mother<em>

* * *

><p><strong>-Chapter 1-<strong>  
><strong>The Awakening<strong>

Jack's eyes snap open. His pupils adjust to the fluorescent lighting hanging above him. He was expecting to awaken inside his L.A. apartment; instead, he's lying on a thin mattress of an operating table. The tension of an oxygen mask pinches his neck as he picks his head up to orient himself. His body aches and his muscles are weakened as if he were sedated.

The rhythm of his heart pulses faintly in the background. The medical equipment he's connected to is outdated; devices he hasn't seen since his first year of med school. He pulls the mask below his chin and coughs as he inhales the stale humid air. The walls of the room are rusty unpolished metal, like the interior of a ship. He may be inside a hospital, but it's certainly not St. Sebastian's. A plastic id bracelet stamped "Patient 23" is wrapped around his wrist.

Jack hears movement in the hallway outside; suddenly, an ominous figure dressed in a hazmat suit stands at the doorway. The pulse of his heart monitor starts racing.

"Please, don't panic. I'm not going to hurt you," says the suited figure. Jack's caught off guard that the voice is a woman's. She steps closer; the suit she's wearing looks like an astronaut, except fitted and less bulky. A tiny light within the helmet illuminates her smoothly featured face.

"Can you hear me OK?" she asks, her voice amplified by a small microphone inside her air sealed helmet.

Jack's voice is weak; he nods instead. She places the oxygen mask back over his mouth; he inhales the fresh oxygen and relaxes. She uses an electronic device to scan Jack's chest.

"There was an Incident on the Island," she explains. "You've been exposed to severe radiation."

Jack feels his face and neck with his hands; he's unshaven, but doesn't feel any wounds or bandages.

"It's truly a miracle," she remarks in amazement as she continues to scan his body with the device. "There's barely a scratch on you; there are a few others just like you." She takes Jack's oxygen mask back off, hoping he's regained his strength to speak.

"My name is Theresa Spencer. What's yours?" she asks.

"Jack," he whispers, swallowing to clear his throat. He recognizes the Dharma logo on her sleeve. His confusion subsides as he realizes when and where he is.

"A scientist named Daniel Faraday sent me to the Island to help those who survived the Incident," she explains.

The mention of Daniel's name brings clarity. Jack recalls everything that happened before he blacked out, and decides to tell her the truth of what he knows. "Faraday's gone," he says with hesitancy. "He was accidentally shot by his Mother."

"I know," she responds softly, her emotions come through the static filled microphone. "His Mother told me it would happen. She made me swear never to tell him."

"His Mother? Mrs. Hawking told you?" Jack asks, trying his best to piece the situation together.

"Yes, Eloise Hawking. Do you know her?" Theresa replies.

"Yes, I spoke with her," Jack responds as he sits up in bed and massages his forehead. "She led us to the bomb. We detonated it thinking it would _prevent_ the Incident."

Theresa turns the scanning device off and gives Jack her full attention. "You spoke to Eloise where? In L.A. or on the Island?" she asks, her tone slightly demanding.

"Both," Jack remarks before taking another breath from the oxygen mask. "I saw her on the Island just before the Incident, but she also told us how to get back here."

"I understand," she replies with a sigh of relief. "She was hoping I would find you. You must be one of the six that are here to save the Island."

"I am?" Jack hasn't heard that type of terminology since the days of Locke.

"Let's find out." She stoops down and places the scanning device back in a box, and takes out a small medical container marked with a red cross.

Jack looks curiously at the container. "What is that?"

She opens it and reveals a set of six syringes. "Something to ensure your survival."

"Only six survived?" Jack asks, disappointed in the outcome of what he thought would save everyone on the Island.

"That's right; only six. Dr. Chang instructed those who weren't exposed to radiation to immediately evacuate in the submarine," she explains.

Theresa takes a syringe out of the container and clears the tip of the needle. "Those who were already exposed, were left behind; perhaps 100 people including yourself. Several nurses and doctors stayed behind to take care of them, but unfortunately everyone is dead; except for you and your friends."

"My friends and I are the six who survived?" Jack asks, hoping to see his friends again.

"Yes. They're here somewhere in this building. They were being taken care of by the nurses, just like you were," she explains. "All of them are still alive except for the Middle Eastern man, patient #16."

Jack is elated at the news his friends are alive, especially Kate; but also saddened by the loss of another close friend he met on the Island. "Sayid Jarrah," Jack remarks softly, shaking his head. "He never had a chance. He was shot in the stomach before all of this happened."

"You did the right thing, Jack. Believe me, it would have been much worse if that bomb didn't go off," Theresa explains. "Unfortunately, it's only a temporary solution; the energy pocket will inevitably build back up. The release button at the Swan still needs to be built."

Theresa lifts Jack's shirt sleeve to inject his shoulder. "Now, this will sting for only a second," Theresa warns. The large gloves of her hazmat suit make it difficult to steady the syringe.

"I can do it," Jack smiles and replies. "I'm a doctor."

"You're a doctor?" she replies with a smile.

Jack notices a drop of blood dribble from her nose.

"Is something wrong?" she asks.

"You're nose," he points to her face.

She feels the tickling of blood touch her lips. "Oh no," she cringes reaching for her face, momentarily forgetting her face is shielded by the glass of her helmet. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she says, her voice quivering. She steps back and pushes several buttons on the waist belt of her suit. Pressurized air releases from her helmet and the suit begins to deflate. A fog like mist forms over the interior of her helmet.

"What are you doing?" Jack shouts, pulling himself off the bed.

"It's no use. I've been exposed," her voice muffled from behind the glass. The amplification of her suit microphone is turned off. "This suit has been compromised."

She wrestles the helmet until it comes off; her long wavy hair unravels to her shoulders. She takes one of the syringes and quickly injects it into Jack's shoulder. "It's very important that you survive," she explains, her natural voice no longer shielded behind the helmet.

The antidote spreads quickly through his bloodstream. His eyes become heavy as he fights to stay conscious. His muscles further weaken and the confusion he had when he first awoke returns.

"Look for me on the other side, Jack."

His body relaxes as he falls asleep on the floor.


	2. St Sebastian's

x  
>x<p>

**Chapter 2**  
><strong>St. Sebastian's<strong>

Jack slowly opens his eyes and awakens inside his L.A. apartment. He's lying in bed after what feels like a full night's recovery from yesterday's difficult surgery and late night stadium running. It's late in the morning and the sun is beaming through the blinds. The telephone rings next to the bed; he stretches his arm across the comforter to answer.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Dr. Shepherd."

Jack recognizes his secretary's voice. She's gone out of her way recently to make sure he makes it to his morning appointments.

"What time is it?"

"Time for you to get up."

Jack looks at his watch on the lamp stand and quickly finds a t-shirt to throw on.

"Whoa. Thanks for the wake up call. I'll see you soon," Jack says as he searches his closet for a shirt and tie.

"Are you alright, Dr. Shepherd?" she asks, sensing nervousness in his voice.

"Ya, I slept well, but had this really strange dream, I think."

"Your morning appointments are packed these next several weeks. Many of them are your father's former patients," she says, quickly inserting the last remark.

"Ya. I operated on one of them yesterday. I think the patient will pull through," he replies, hoping to change the subject away from his father.

"May I ask?"

Jack cringes, sensing the question coming.

"How is your Father?" she asks cautiously. Everyone close to Jack knows about the circumstances leading to Jack's Dad leaving the hospital; she's hoping Jack is ready to talk about it.

Jack pauses, speechless at first. "Well," he nervously chuckles.

"I'm sorry; I hope I'm not intruding. It's just that, all of us here are really concerned, Jack," she replies. Jack is moved by the sincerity in her voice.

"I'm concerned about him too." Jack struggles opening up about his father running away. "The truth is; my Mother and I have no idea where he is."

"I'm sorry," she sniffles, holding back emotions. "I hope he comes home soon."

"Me too." He squints his eyes to clear the tears forming. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

><p>Jack carries his briefcase and walks through the main entrance of St. Sebastian's Hospital. The double glass doors automatically slide open; the rush of cold air condition a nice refresher after the walk across the parking lot. He fits his lab coat on and enters the hallway leading toward neurosurgery.<p>

A nurse holding a clipboard approaches Jack from the nurse's station. "Excuse me Dr. Shepherd; your appointment's here."

"Here already?" Jack checks his watch. "Well he's a little early," Jack remarks, mostly annoyed because of his wasted effort rushing out of bed.

"She, actually," the nurse corrects him.

"How long has she been waiting?" Jack asks.

"Two hours, at least. Her sister checked her back in early this morning"

"Back in?" Jack replies, his voice sounding confused. "She's already a patient?"

"Apparently she's been all over this hospital, many times," the nurse replies, only adding to Jack's confusion. "Walk with me; she's waiting in room 108."

"Has her condition been diagnosed?" Jack asks, feeling unprepared as he approaches the door to her room.

"Let's just say, she's a very unique case," the nurse replies as they enter the doorway. The room is quiet; a heart monitor faintly sounds in the background. A woman lies in a comatosed state with her eyes closed halfway.

"Theresa Spencer," the nurse remarks as she hands Jack a thick folder of medical records. "She's been looked at by Neurology, then Psychiatry, and now she's back in our hands."

Jack opens her stack of medical files and recognizes his father's handwriting. He steps close to her side. "She was a patient of my father's," he remarks, as he uses his fingers to pull the hair away from her eyes.

"Do you know her?" asks the nurse, after several seconds of Jack staring.

Jack slowly nods. He speaks in a whisper directly to Theresa, as if she's able to hear him. "Where have I seen you before?"

There's no response. Theresa's eyelids twitch erratically as if she were in a deep sleep.

Jack fumbles through her paperwork again, shaking his head as he looks over medical graphs and charts. He digs to the bottom of the stack to start from the beginning and again sees his father's handwriting.

He mumbles softly as he reads aloud the typed written paper. "What is this?" He removes the bottom page and shows it to the nurse. "1977; she's been a patient of my father for almost 30 years."

Jack looks back again at Theresa; her facial expression unchanged since they entered the room. He's eager for answers, but knows he'll have to wait.

"What happened in 1977?"


	3. Finding Theresa

x  
>x<p>

**Chapter 3  
>Finding Theresa<strong>

It's 1977.

A young girl is wheeled through the emergency entrance of a Florida hospital; her frantic mother following closely behind. She's unconscious and strapped securely to the stretcher. A paramedic keeps pressure on her wrist to make sure she maintains a pulse.

A young and ambitious resident surgeon, Dr. Christian Shepherd, happens to be walking through the emergency room corridor at the time. He places his stethoscope on and calmly takes initiative.

"She'll be fine. We'll take good care of her," he assures the mother while placing a hand on her shoulder.

She catches her breathe between tears. "Thank you, Doctor."

The medic takes his hand off her wrist and steps back from the stretcher. "Pulse 85 and steady; blood pressure is normal."

"How did this happen?" he asks as he moves the stethoscope about her chest.

The mother looks over and nods for the medic to speak first. "Not sure exactly, Doc. When I came on the scene; she was unconscious. No trauma. I think she fainted from the heat."

"No, no, no." The mother shakes her head in disagreement. "I told you, she didn't faint. It's something very different," the mother explains in a tone of frustration.

The medic stares at Christian with a look of annoyance. He's run out of patience with the mother's nagging. "You can take it from here, Doc," he says, as he leaves the room.

Christian shines his penlight into the girl's right eye; both eyes react by blinking rapidly. He clicks the penlight off. "She's awake."

"That's because you woke her," the mother responds in a thick British accent. Theresa's eyes stop blinking and close once again. "There, you see; she's left us again."

Christian places a hand on her forehead, and gently pulls her eyelid open. Her pupil remains dilated and her stare remains straight. "You're right. This is very peculiar."

He gently pulls her hair back and checks the other eye.

"What's her name?"

"Theresa," she says. "I'm Mrs. Spencer, her mother."

"I'm Dr. Shepherd." He feels behind her head for any signs of trauma, then moves downward to feel the lymph nodes on her neck.

Little Theresa mumbles beneath her breath. Her words are first incoherent, then recognizable as a series of numbers. "4 mumble 23 mumble 42 mumble mumble 8 mumble mumble 15 16 23 mumble 4 8 15 16 23 42."

Theresa's mother recites the numbers along with her. "4-8-15-16-23-42. The numbers. She's said them before." She looks to Christian and shrugs her shoulders. "My daughter has a knack for numbers."

"Anything else you can tell me?" Christian asks with a perplexed look, hoping for clues less bizarre.

"She has quite an imagination," her Mother explains, hoping some symptoms can be attributed to her being a child. "She sometimes pretends to be in other places at different times."

Little Theresa stops mumbling and suddenly awakens from her trance. Her mother comforts her by squeezing her hand. "Hey sweetie," she smiles. "Welcome back."

"I'm there now, Mommy," she says playfully.

"Where, sweetie?"

"The Island, silly. The one with the sharks and polar bears," she says again playfully, as if she's playing a game of hide-and-go-seek.

Theresa turns to Christian. He teases her by making a silly face.

"Heehee," she laughs. "Are you really a doctor or just pretend?"

"Yes, I'm really a doctor. What are you?"

"I'm a scientist," she says with sincerity. "Guess what? There's a doctor on the Island with me right now."

"There is? What's his name?" Christian replies, his curiosity growing.

Before she can answer, her eyes close and her expression goes blank. "Theresa? Baby?" Her mother tightens her grip on her hand and tugs at her arm. "Theresa, stay with us baby."

Theresa's eyelids flutter and she awakens again. Her demeanor is more serious.

"Jack," she says, her voice slightly deeper.

Christian loses his playful smile; a chilling thought comes to mind. He's unable to hide his reaction from Theresa's mother.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Oh, it's nothing," says Christian. His thoughts drift to his young son, who he's been pushing to become a doctor ever since he was a toddler.

Theresa speaks again in a serious tone. "Dad, if you can hear me now, and I believe that you can; I love you, and I miss you."

Mrs. Spencer's eyes swell with tears. Her behavior can no longer be explained away as playful imagination. After hearing the last remark, she doesn't recognize her own daughter. She let's go from holding Theresa's hand, and hides her face in shame as she cries.

Theresa looks to Christian and gives him a clear instruction. "Take the call, it's an important call."

Christian is startled as the emergency room phone mounted on the wall suddenly rings.

_*ring ring* *ring ring*_

* * *

><p>It's 2004.<p>

The phone inside room 108 of St. Sebastian's hospital suddenly rings.

_*ring ring* *ring ring*_

Jack flinches in his chair as he catches himself before falling asleep. He must have dozed off while looking through Theresa's stack of medical records still opened on his lap.

_*ring ring* *ring ring*_

He looks across the room and sees Theresa lying peacefully in bed; her body non reactive as the phone rings on the stand next to her.

_*ring ring* *ring ring*_

Jack stammers up from his chair to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Shepherd. We have Theresa's latest MRIs results at the desk. I can bring them to you," says the nurse.

"Yes, please. I'm still here, looking through her records," Jack replies.

Suddenly, Theresa's eyelids flutter. She takes a deep breath and turns her head back and forth.

"I need to go." He hangs up the phone without explanation. He reaches across the bed and gently squeezes her hand. "Theresa? Can you hear me?"

Her eyes open wide. She's in shock and continues to stare forward, unresponsive to Jack's voice. Her jaw drops and a look of fear covers her face, as if she can't awake from a bad dream. He waves his hand in front of her eyes.

"Theresa? It's OK. You're safe now. Can you hear me?"

She turns to Jack. Her stare softens as she seems to recognize him. The expression on her face turns to relief.

"Jack," she whispers. "You found me."


	4. When We Met

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 4-**  
><strong>When We Met<strong>

"You found me."

Jack hears her voice for the first time since meeting her at the hospital. Her face is already so familiar. Her voice sets off further flashes of memories hidden deep inside; memories of experiences that feel like a dream. Jack wrestles with his mind. His thoughts are divided; he wants to believe those experiences are real, but still needs something outside of himself to validate it.

"I found you?"

Theresa nods in affirmation. The energy behind her smile seems unusual for someone just waking from a coma.

"Where have I seen you before?" Jack asks eagerly. The question has been burning inside him ever since he walked into her room yesterday. "And how do you know my name?"

Theresa sits up in bed and stretches her arms. "Before I tell you everything I know, Jack; I need you to trust me," she says, her eyes filled with sincerity. "We've met before." Her voice goes soft as if she were entrusting Jack with a secret. "In a place much like a hospital."

"Not here?"

She shakes her head. "It's been years since I've been a patient of your father's."

"Another hospital," Jack says thinking out loud. "It must have been a long time ago."

"1977," she replies, fully expecting his reaction of denial.

"That can't be," Jack replies. He remembers that date stamped at the beginning of her medical records. "You were just a child. We were both kids in 1977."

"Yes. We were children; but we were also the age we are now," she says, her voice no longer sounding secretive. She decides not to hold back any information, realizing Jack will never be prepared for the shock of what she must say. "The experience of us meeting each other before is actually happening right now, as we speak; but in another place."

Jack stops following her explanation. He's now convinced her remarks originate from her mental instability. He tries changing his tone back to a Doctor-Patient conversation. "Mrs. Spencer, I'm going to try my best to help you."

"Please, call me Theresa," she says slightly irritated. "You know it's true, Jack; you know in your heart that you have seen me before."

Jack nods, and looks down to the floor; doing his best to keep his professional composure.

"You found me here. But you also need to find me _there_; in the place we met before, in 1977."

Jack looks up from the floor, and tries his best to take Theresa's words seriously. "Where do I need to look for you, Theresa?"

"On the Island."

* * *

><p>Jack awakens with an empty syringe in his hand. He's lying facedown in the middle of the floor, in a room similar to a hospital room. Outdated medical devices are stacked next to the bed he must have recently crawled from. The air is stale and the ground is damp.<p>

He turns on his side and feels the plastic material of a deflated haz-mat suit against his arm. He recognizes the Dharma logo on the sleeve, which reminds him of when and where he is. His strength has returned since blacking out.

He shakes Theresa's shoulder with his hand, trying to wake her.

"Theresa? Are you OK?"

The suit feels as cold as the floor. He grabs her arm and feels nothing solid beneath the plastic. He turns the helmet to see her face, but sees only his reflection in the glass. The helmet is detached from the suit, which is nothing but an empty shell. He looks down and discovers the suit is separated at the waist. She must have left the room while Jack was unconscious, shedding the useless compromised suit behind. He looks on the floor for the container of syringes; they're also missing.

He hears footsteps in the hallway. A woman calls out in distress.

"Hello? Anybody else alive? Hello?"

It's not Theresa, but another much more familiar voice. Jack calls out to reply.

"Hello? I'm in here!"

Her footsteps come closer. Kate suddenly appears, smiling at the doorway.

"Jack!"


	5. Five Alive

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 5-**  
><strong>Five Alive<strong>

Kate stands in the doorway smiling at Jack. The last time they looked into each other's eyes was at the Swan, right before Jack dropped the bomb down the shaft. Their expectations were that the next time they saw one another, it would be as strangers on Oceanic 815 safely landing in LAX.

Kate smiles and looks away; her words break the silence, but not the moment. "Guess we never made it to L-A-X."

"Ya, guess not," Jack chuckles. "We landed in here instead."

She holds out her hand to help him to his feet; Jack grabs hold and stands mostly on his own strength. He tugs her arm and leans in to embrace her.

"I'm so glad I found you, alive," Kate says, returning the affection.

Jack steps back, still grasping her shoulders and looking into her eyes. "It's good to see you, Kate," he says sincerely, his throat choking with emotion.

"You too."

"You look good," he says, checking her arms.

"Thanks," she replies.

"I mean, you don't have a scratch on you."

"Oh," she pauses, with a look of sarcasm.

He looks and feels her skin for cuts and bruises.

"Ya, you look good," Jack says, oblivious to her last remark.

Kate smiles. She's not bothered that he's focused; she knows he's concerned and that's all that matters.

"Did you find anyone else?" Jack asks.

Kate nods. "Hurley, Jin, and Sawyer; they're safe. They're waiting for me to get back." She looks around the hatch-like room and notices the medical equipment stacked next to the bed. "Where are we Jack?"

"Somewhere on the Island." Jack looks up at the steel fabricated ceiling. "It's another Dharma hatch."

"It's bigger than the other hatches. I've walked around; it's huge. It's like a Dharma hospital. There's medical equipment in all the rooms." Kate looks over and notices the hazmat suit on the ground. "Where did that come from?"

Jack picks up the empty hazmat helmet. "When I first woke up, a person dressed in a hazmat suit was standing right in front of me." He places the helmet in front of his face to mimic what he saw.

"Woah, that's kind of scary." She takes the helmet from him and looks it over. "Was he one of the scientists from Dharma?"

"She," Jack corrects her. "Her name is Theresa." Kate raises her eyebrows at the mention of another woman. "I'm not so sure she was sent here by Dharma," Jack says, looking down at the suit.

Kate kneels to get a better look. "This suit is from the hatch with the toxic gas; the one Daniel shut down," she says, pointing at the dharma-tempest symbol on the sleeve. "I remember him wearing one just like this."

"That makes sense," Jack nods in agreement. "She told me Daniel Faraday was the one who sent her."

"What else did she say?" Kate asks.

"That there's only six of us still alive, and that were here to save the Island."

"Save the Island?" Kate rolls her eyes. "Maybe it was John Locke who sent her."

Jack smiles at first, then feels the need to defend Locke. After all Jack has been through, he's had a change of heart about his former Island adversary. "Locke wasn't wrong about everything, Kate."

"No, Jack; he wasn't right about anything," she argues. "All of us came back to the Island for our own reasons."

"Maybe we did," Jack nods, losing eye contact with Kate. "But he pleaded with all of us to come back, and died for what he believed in. And now, we're here; and we're the only ones left alive."

"Alive? And what about Juliet?" Kate is frustrated. Jack sighs; he has nothing to say in return. He feels fortunate to be alive, but has quickly forgotten those who lost their lives.

Kate steps toward the doorway. "Come with me, Jack."

"Where are you going?"

"Juliet's room; the rest of the group is there with her, waiting for me to get back."

"Juliet?" Jack responds with a cracked voice. "She's alive?"

Kate shakes her head. "The people who found us must have found her body in the shaft." Kate's eyes gloss over with tears ready to form; her memories still fresh from what happened at the Incident site. "She was alive only for a moment. Sawyer got to say goodbye."

* * *

><p>Jack and Kate leave the room and carefully walk down the hallway. They step around dead bodies strewn about the floor. The ceiling has caged fluorescent lighting like an industrial factory; the walls are dark and made of grated steel, like the interior of a spaceship in a Star Wars movie. Jack peaks right and left into the rooms as he walks by, seeing more dead bodies of patients in beds. He kneels next to one on the floor and examines the markings on the skin.<p>

"All of them succumbed to radiation exposure," Jack says. "We're lucky to be alive."

They finally reach Juliet's room. Hurley and Jin greet Jack with a smile and a hug. Sawyer sits next to Juliet in the bed, holding her lifeless body while stroking her signature blonde hair; he isn't as thrilled as they are to see Jack.

He eyes Jack with a look of disdain. "This one's on you, Doc."

Jack looks down ashamed. He feels responsible; after all, he convinced everyone else that detonating the bomb to prevent the future from happening was a good idea.

"It's my fault, Sawyer," Jack says, lacking words to comfort. "I'm sorry about Juliet."

Sawyer rushes over and strangles Jack by the collar. Jack stands still and doesn't resist. "This was all your plan, Doc! Blow the bomb, and all of us will start over again in LA! Well guess what? It didn't work! All of us are still here! And Juliet's gone!"

Jin races over to help. "Soe-yor! No!" He yells, reaching around Sawyer's chest from behind and pulling him back. Kate steps in between to make sure Sawyer doesn't try to pull a cheap punch.

"Settle down, Sawyer," Jack says calmly. "Just because we're still here, doesn't mean the bomb didn't work."

Sawyer tilts his head back to clear the bangs from his eyes. "What the hell you talkin' about, Doc?"

"Look at me." Jack holds his arms out with his palms up. "Look at _all of us_. We were right in the middle of a nuclear explosion and there isn't a scratch on us."

Sawyer gives up struggling; he catches his breath and exhales to calm down. He looks over to Juliet's body. "I should have died with her."

"All of us _should_ have died!" Jack raises his voice for the first time, getting the group's attention. "We should have died, but we didn't," he says, his voice much calmer the second time. "The Incident at the Swan site isn't over. We're still alive for a reason. Something or someone is keeping us alive." Jack's confidence settles the group; for the first time since finding each other, they feel a sense of purpose and hope.

They needed Jack.

And Jack needed them.

"Daniel Faraday wanted the bomb detonated. He also warned the Dharma Initiative to evacuate the Island. This was ultimately his plan," Jack explains.

"Too bad Danny boy ain't around anymore to see any of this, Doc," Sawyer responds, with a cooler head.

"I know, but he sent someone else here to help us. A woman dressed in a hazmat suit came to visit me when I first woke up. She told me Daniel sent her to the Island. She also said the six of us are still alive for a reason," Jack explains. "We're alive because we're the only ones that can save the Island."

"Uh, Jack; I don't mean to rain on your Save-the-Island speech dude, but there's only five of us left," remarks Hurley.

Jack does a quick head count. Jin, Kate, Hurley, Sawyer, and himself; Hurley's right. He was assuming there were six, but only five are alive.

"So, like, maybe the five of us are supposed to save the Island?" says Hurley.

Jack looks to Kate. He places his hand on his forehead as he typically does when he's confused. "She said there are six of us still alive."

"Sayid?" Kate asks in guessing. "Miles Maybe?"

Jack shakes his head. "Sayid's dead. Miles could still be alive. It doesn't have to be one of us; it may be somebody from Dharma."

Jack steps out the doorway and looks down the long stretch of hallway full of dead bodies. He kneels next to one of the bodies and checks for a pulse.

Hurley gulps.

"Dude; you want to check all the dharma zombies to see if they're still alive?" Hurley asks, dreading Jack is going to ask them for help.

Jack looks to the group. "Any other ideas?

Kate speaks up first, but not to volunteer; she's already worked hard enough searching for survivors. "I walked every hallway. I called out as loud as I could. You were the only one to respond, Jack."

"Did you check every room?"

Kate nods at first then remembers. "Every room, except one." She turns and points in the other direction; yellow caution tape crisscrosses a pair of steel double doors at the end of the hallway. "I didn't think it would be a good idea to go in there."

Jack walks towards the double doors; the group follows from behind but keeps a safe distance. Jack examines the tape and notices a tear. "Somebody already came through," Jack says, showing the group what he sees.

"Maybe this is where Danny boy's lady friend is hidin'?" says Sawyer.

"Jack, No!" warns Jin.

Jack holds his breath then steadily rotates the lever. He turns to warn the group. "Everyone stay back." Jack turns the lever fully and pushes the door open.

(to be continued!)


	6. Sharks and Polar Bears

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 6-**  
><strong>Sharks and Polar Bears<strong>

Jack turns the lever and pushes the door with his shoulder. It's sealed tightly, like an entrance to an airlock chamber. Jack pushes further; the seal loosens and the door freely swings the rest of the way. He steps through and unexpectedly sees a familiar place. In front of him is a wall of sea water held back by a barrier of glass from ceiling to floor. He's been here before, except handcuffed on the other side of the glass. The water filled room is no longer a holding cell for one of Ben's prisoners; it's being used for what it was originally intended for by the Dharma scientists who built it.

A giant aquarium.

A large shark emblazoned with a Dharma logo on its side swims into view. Jack is mesmerized watching the large predator; he places his hand on the glass, it slowly paces the length of the tank.

Kate approaches from behind. Jack sees her reflection in the glass.

"Woah." She pauses in awe. "That's probably a Great White." Her eyes follow the creature swimming by. "Wait a second; I know this place."

"Me too," Jack says. "You were standing right here, with your hand against the glass. And I was on the other side."

She places her hand on the glass and stares into her own reflection. "I remember now."

"This isn't a hospital at all." Jack says, recognizing the Hydra station insignia on the shark's side. "They moved us away from the main Island because it's safer."

"Well I'll be damned." Sawyer comes into the room to join them. "It's a God Damn shark tank."

"Next time I'm at the beach, I'm staying in shallow water," Kate smiles, turning to Sawyer. "Could you imagine seeing one of these swim next to you?"

"Believe me sweetie, it ain't fun," Sawyer remarks, his face as serious as a cowboy. "I was that close to bein' eatin' by one. Dorsal fin was about that size."

Kate slaps him on the shoulder. "Get out of here." A pause of silence and Sawyer remains straight faced; Kate loses her smile sensing Sawyer could be telling the truth. "Are you serious?" she asks, intrigued.

He nods, crossing his arms. "That little rafting expedition Michael and I did, when Walt got kidnapped." Sawyer looks down at the scar on his arm; he has Kate's full attention. "I was shot in the arm. The blood in the water must have brought him to us."

Kate remembers the time they set sail from the Island, thinking she'd never see them again. "And what happened after that?" she asks.

"You were lucky," Jack speaks up, recalling Sawyer's gunshot wound he treated. "If Eko didn't bring you back to get those antibiotics, you might as well have been shark bait."

Sawyer smirks, slightly offended his episode of storytelling was interupted. He hasn't forgiven Jack for Juliet. Not yet, at least.

"So Doc, what's the plan?" Sawyer holds his arms out.

"Plan?" Jack chuckles under his breath, then shakes his head. "I don't have a plan."

"The girl you were lookin' for in here, before you found out it was a giant Dharma Seaquarium; she ain't here."

"Which means she's somewhere else in the building," Jack replies.

Sawyer nonchalantly leans against the aquarium glass. "What does Daniel Faraday and this girl want to do for us anyhow?"

Jack senses the line of questions coming. Sawyer loves to challenge him, especially in front of Kate. He knows he's only being asked so Sawyer can share whatever plan he's come up with. He answers anyway to go along with it.

"Her name is Theresa Spencer. She told me we're here to save the Island."

Sawyer sighs and watches the shark pace by him. "It's just an Island full of sharks and polar bears, Jack. Ain't worth savin' if you ask me."

"Go ahead Sawyer. What's your plan?" Jack replies impatiently.

"I say we get the hell off this rock. Buildin' that raft was the best idea we ever came up with."

"Are you kidding me?" Kate says glancing at the shark. "You want to build another bamboo raft and float around with the sharks?"

"No, Freckles," Sawyer stops leaning on the tank as the shark comes near. "It's 1977. The Dharma Initiative travels to Hydra Island the same way the Others do in 2004. They use a Ferry."

It seems Sawyer does have a plan worth listening to. Kate looks to Jack to see if he has any better ideas. Jack speaks less confidently than before. "We should wait here. If we don't find Theresa, she's bound to find us. Daniel is trying to help us."

"Danny's dead Jack, and he ain't coming back." Sawyer looks to Kate, pulling for her vote of confidence. "And besides, he already has helped us."

"How so?" Kate asks.

"He gave us the bearing to leave this place. It's three hundred somethin'; can't remember exactly." Sawyer takes a step toward the door. "Maybe Hurley will remember."

"305," says Kate.

Jack looks down. He questions himself about what is really best for the group. Sawyer's plan sounds like the better choice at the moment.

"What do you say Doc? How about we get on that ferry, set the bearing at 305, and never look back?"

"This time, I'm not leaving," he says, shaking his head. He agrees in his mind Sawyer's plan is better, but in his heart he doesn't want to let go. "It's 1977. Maybe the bearing is different."

Sawyer sighs. Jack's stubbornness is so predictable. "What do you really remember about the girl?" asks Sawyer.

"I remember waking up. She was standing there dressed in a hazmat suit. She's not like us; whatever is happening in this place was affecting her." Jack's confidence is slowly returning; the calmness in his voice never left. He has Kate's attention again. "She talked about Eloise Hawking. She said she knew about Daniel's death, before he died. She knew what she was doing. She said that we're"

Sawyer interupts. "I know, I know. She said that we're here to save the Island."

"That's right," Jack says, looking back to Kate.

"She could be right," Sawyer admits. "The way I see it is, Doc; you have a choice. You either believe her and go down a trail like John Locke did, or you choose now to no longer believe and save yourself."

Sawyer turns to get one last look at the shark before leaving. "Just an Island of sharks and polar bears, Doc." He stares down the shark and speaks to it in his cowboy tone, as if it were the same shark that attacked him on the raft. "Why save somethin' that only wants to kill you?"


	7. Diagnosis

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 7-**  
><strong>Diagnosis<strong>

It's 2004.

Theresa Spencer lies motionless in bed. She's away again. Jack pulls his chair close to her side, and gently brushes her hair away from her face. Her eyes are open halfway. Jack leans over and moves his hand in front of her face; she doesn't respond, as expected.

He's gotten to know her well these last several days. The vivid stories from her childhood. Her memories of the Island. The desperation in her voice makes it all seem so real. He wants to believe.

The lights in her room were left off for her to rest. Jack pushes the dimmer switch next to the bed and brightens the room just enough for him to see. He picks up her stack of medical files and pulls out her latest MRI image. He places it up to the light and recognizes it again; a peculiar speck in the vertebra at the base of her neck. He ran additional tests to make sure, which only confirmed the worst.

He places the image back in the folder, and pulls out the hand written papers at the bottom of the stack. He reads through notes that have his father's handwriting, attempting to connect with the thoughts he was having at the time.

"Island with sharks and polar bears," he reads under his breath. He looks back at Theresa. "Polar bears?" he questions her, his voice a little louder than a whisper.

Theresa takes a deep breath, which gets Jack's attention. She blinks, then fully opens her eyes.

"Welcome back," he says, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Jack?" she asks, her eyes still out of focus. Jack brightens the dimmer switch a couple notches higher.

"I'm here. You're safe, Theresa," he assures her.

Theresa smiles, and looks down at the notes Jack is reading. "What are you reading?" she asks.

"It's a story, about an Island."

Theresa's smile grows. Jack smiles back, and looks down again at the notes. "I can understand sharks; but why polar bears? It's a tropical Island."

"They were brought there for research, by the scientists," she answers, her tone more informative.

"And you are a scientist?" Jack asks, his expression more serious.

"Yes, Jack. But I don't study polar bears."

"What is it that you study, Theresa?" Jack asks, his voice sounding even more clinical.

Theresa nervously grabs the sheets and twists them around her fingers. She's uncomfortable. It's a question Jack hasn't asked before and she's afraid he may not believe her. She decides again to not hold back.

"Physics," she says sternly. "More specifically, temporal dilation and displacement." She keeps the terminology complicated to impress Jack. His eyes glaze over; she might have overdone it. "Do you know what temporal dilation is, Jack?"

Jack nods, looking disinterested. "Time travel," he says, unable to look her in the eyes. "I read it, in the notes," he says, pointing to her medical records. "You've been talking about temporal dilation since you were a child." Jack clears his throat and looks away. Theresa senses something wrong. "What is it, Jack?"

Jack places the notes back in the folder and pulls his chair closer. "Theresa," he says, reaching for her hand. "Miss Spencer, I noticed something peculiar in your MRI." Now it's Jack that feels uncomfortable. Bedside manner was never his forte; he struggles to maintain patient eye contact. "I ran some additional tests."

"Yes?" she asks, her voice quivering.

"You have a tumor, in your C2 vertebra," Jack looks down and exhales, relieved he finally told her. "It's on the back of your neck, at the base of the skull," he explains.

She tries to retain her composure. "I don't know what to say," she says, her voice even shakier. A tear streams down her cheek. "Will I be OK?"

"You're going to be just fine. We caught it just in time," he explains. He pauses one last time before revealing his full diagnosis; the burden of being a doctor revisits him. "This has caused your complications; with your mind, with your memories."

"Oh no," she says, swallowing. "Jack, please believe me. That is not what is causing this. I remember things. I remember you."

"I know you believe you've seen me before, in another place and time," Jack says, finally able to maintain eye contact.

Theresa is heartbroken. She feels betrayed that Jack would ask questions so curiously and pretend to believe her. She feels alone, and wishes this time she never woke up. Tears begin streaming down her face. "You never found me, did you?" she asks, her voice choking with emotion.

"Find you?" Jack replies, shaking his head. "Find you where, Theresa?"

"On the Island," she says. "Keep looking for me Jack."

Jacky callously cuts her off. "It's obvious the visions you are having are related to the tumor," he says matter-of-factly. Whatever compassion he once had in his voice is gone; he's not a believer in giving false hope like his father was. "The tumor is growing within a vertebra that's in close proximity to your brain."

"No, Jack," she pleads desperately with him.

Jack stands and places her records beneath his arm. "Ms. Spencer, I assure you we are taking very good care of you. I'm scheduling the surgery sometime this week." Jack steps toward the door to leave, no longer attempting any level of bedside manner. "I'll be checking on you throughout today. Everything will be just fine. Now if you'll excuse me."

"Jack," she says, her voice cracking with emotion.

Jack pauses and looks back from the doorway.

"_I wish you had believed me_."


	8. One Mind, Two Places

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 8-**  
><strong>One Mind, Two Places<strong>

It's 2004. Wearing blue scrubs and carrying a clip board at his side, Jack blends in with the crowd of other doctors and nurses wondering the halls of neurosurgery. The nurse in charge of Theresa Spencer's care fortunately spots Jack across the hallway and tries to get his attention.

"Dr. Shepherd, we need to talk," she says frantically. "It's about Theresa."

Jack slows his stride just enough for her to catch up. "What's wrong?"

"She hasn't stabilized; her neuro kinetics are way off the charts."

He looks at his watch and picks up the pace again. "Is she still unconscious?"

"Non-responsive, so you can call her that if you'd like." She hands Jack a chart printed from one of Theresa's monitoring devices. "Her neural activity is equivalent to two people. It's like having two minds, in two places."

"She only has one mind," Jack remarks, stating the obvious. He flips through her charts; he's concerned at first, then questions the results. "This isn't possible. Are you sure she's unconscious?"

"See for yourself." They walk together a little further and enter room 108. Theresa lies unconscious, but not motionless. Her hands are trembling. Her eyes are closed but rapidly twitching beneath the eyelids. The device monitoring her condition periodically sounds a warning signal. Jack places his hand on her shoulder, hoping his touch may trigger a calming response. Her body continues to tremor.

He looks back to the nurse, who still appears worried. "She's scheduled for surgery in two days," he says, trying to ease her worries.

"Two days?" the nurse responds disappointed. For the condition Theresa is in, two days seems like an eternity. The nurse pleads for more assurance. "Will she make it, Dr. Shepherd?"

Jack firms his grip on Theresa's shoulder, and leans slightly forward. "I'm going to fix you," he says sternly.

It's an awkward moment for the nurse, as if she's intruding on their conversation. She waits for Jack to answer her question, but he ignores her; he's fixated on Theresa. Several quiet seconds pass by while Jack continues to stare.

The warning beeps from the monitoring device suddenly go silent. Theresa takes a deep breath as if she swam to the surface for air. Her shaking ceases. The soundings of the heart monitor slow to a normal rhythm.

Jack nervously laughs, and finally stops staring. He looks to the nurse; she cracks a smile and breathes a sigh of relief.

Theresa blinks several times, then fully opens her eyes; staring directly at Jack.

"You're a doctor?" she asks.

It wasn't the familiar warm welcome he was hoping for. This is her first awakening where Theresa seems totally confused.

"Yes, Theresa. I'm Dr. Jack Shepherd. How are you feeling?" Jack replies, treating her as if this is their first introduction.

"I already know your name, Jack. I just didn't know you were a doctor," Theresa responds with a smile. Jack returns the smile, even more confused than before. Suddenly, a small drip of blood streaks down from Theresa's nostril. Jack loses his smile, and the nurse becomes panicky.

"Is something wrong?" she asks.

"You're nose," he points to her face. "It's bleeding."

She feels the tickling of blood touch her lips. Theresa's expression turns to shock. "Oh no," she cringes. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

The nurse frantically searches the room for a box of tissues. Jack stays focused on Theresa, hoping to keep her calm. "You're going to be fine, Miss Spencer," he says, trying his best to keep the situation under control.

"I've been exposed!" Theresa yells in desperation. "The suit has been compromised!"

"The suit?" Jack asks with a puzzled look. "Miss Spencer. You're safe now. You're inside of St. Sebastian's hospital," he assures her.

"We're not in a hospital, Jack; it's the Hydra!" Theresa explains. "The Dharma Initiative brought you and the other survivors here for treatment of radiation exposure." Theresa looks around the bed, desperately searching for something. "I need the syringe, Jack. Where are the six syringes? It's important that I survive; if I don't then none of your friends will!"

Jack is completely perplexed, and can only respond with a question. "Six syringes?" He feels unprepared to deal with a delusional psychiatric patient; he looks to the nurse for help.

"I found the tissue box," says the nurse. She wads a handful of tissues together and carefully reaches for Theresa's nose. Theresa jerks back, not expecting her face to be touched. "My mask; I'm not wearing the suit," she says to herself. She relaxes, and lets the nurse dab the blood off her nose and lips.

"No Theresa, you're not wearing a suit," Jack says, thankful his patient seems to be in touch with reality again. "You're safe."

"This really is a hospital," she says, looking about the room. "What year is it Jack?" she asks.

"It's 2004," he answers, looking over to the nurse sharing in the confusion.

Jack tries piecing her questions together, and is curious to what she was thinking. "You asked me about syringes. You said it's important that you survive, otherwise my friends might not."

Theresa nods. "Yes, Jack"

Jack looks away, slightly anxious. "Tell me, Theresa. _Who are my friends?"_


	9. Choosing to Believe

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 9-**  
><strong>Choosing to Believe<strong>

"Tell me, Theresa. Who are my friends?"

"Honestly Jack, I," she speaks with a nasal tone, unable to complete her sentence. The nurse squeezes and dabs her bloody nose with a tissue.

"There, Dear. Keep the pressure, and tilt your head back," the nurse instructs her.

Theresa takes hold of the tissue herself and finishes her answer. "Honestly, Jack; I don't know any of your friends," she explains. She sits up in the bed to stretch, and the nurse gives her another fresh tissue. "I only know them by their numbers." Her answer makes her case even more bizarre.

"Numbers?" Jack raises his eyebrows, and looks to the nurse. "And what exactly do these numbers mean, Theresa?" He softens his tone and speaks slowly, as if he was a psychiatrist sitting in a leather chair interviewing her. He's trying hard with his bedside manner, but the act makes him less personable.

"Wait a second," the nurse inserts, thinking aloud. "You mean the numbers you've been repeating since you were a child?" She's curious and, unlike Jack, far more personable. "I read about them in your medical records Theresa."

"Yes, those numbers." Theresa nods, but doesn't look to the nurse. She doesn't want to lose eye contact with Jack. _It's only important he believes_ she thinks to herself.

"There are six numbers, just as there are six of you left on the Island." She speaks firmly, hoping Jack will finally lay down his skepticism, and his guard. "I didn't know your friends, but neither did anybody else. There wasn't any record of them being in the Dharma Initiative, which means they must have come to the Island some other way."

"Some other way?" Jack repeats underneath his breath. He moves in closer; her story, however bizarre, is an interesting one. "So what's your theory?"

"Theory?" she replies.

"Ya, theory," he nods, finally letting his guard down of acting like a doctor. "What do you believe about how my friends and I got there?"

"What do you _believe_, Jack?" she smiles, inviting him to become more engaged in his own story.

"Well," he chuckles. "There's only a few ways of getting to an Island. Either by boat, or by plane, or," he looks to the nurse hoping she might include herself in the conversation.

"Or maybe by submarine?" the nurse guesses, shrugging her shoulders.

"Any of those ways are possible. Daniel Faraday was convinced it was by plane," Theresa explains. "But one thing we do know for sure is; you and your friends didn't travel there with Dharma."

"Which means?" Jack asks.

"Which means, Jack; you and your friends somehow infiltrated the Dharma Initiative."

The conversation sounds as serious as a murder mystery. It turns slightly awkward at the mention of Jack and his friends infiltrating an island.

The nurse raises her eyebrows, then looks down at her watch. "Oh, I'm sorry. Dr. Shepherd, I better go. I have another patient to care for." She's done her part to help Jack communicate with his patient, so now he'll need to finish this bizarre discussion on his own.

"Bye, Theresa, I'll check on you later," she says as she steps out of the room.

Once again, Theresa maintains complete eye contact with Jack. She isn't bothered by the nurse's abrupt exit; she only cares what Jack thinks.

"Infiltrate?" Jack chuckles, trying to keep the tone less serious. "I'm an infiltrator?"

"That's right, Jack." Theresa doesn't share in the laughter. Her expression remains solemn. "I think I understand how you and your friends might have felt."

"How so?" he asks.

"Trying to fit in a time and place you don't belong. Knowing what's going to happen, yet nobody believes you when you try to warn them."

Jack understands. He's felt that way before, although not in a time traveling sense. He pictures himself in her shoes. His bedside manner is slowly improving. He's not going to tell her about his doubts, or mention anything about the tumor in her spine. He's only going to listen.

(Or so he thinks.)

His restraint lasts only for a moment.

"If you're really from 1977, then how do you know about the future?"

Theresa shakes her head. "It's 2004, which means I'm still in _my_ past. Everything that is happening right now, has _already happened_."

"So what happens in the future?" Jack asks, his curiosity peaking.

"Are you ready to believe me, Jack?" she asks. Jack hesitates to answer. She continues without his response. "First, let's start from the past. I'll tell you what I know about _you_."

"OK," he swallows, eager to hear.

"I know about your father."

"My father?" Jack isn't too impressed. "You probably know a lot about my father. You were a patient of his for 30 years."

Theresa shakes her head. "I haven't spoken to him since I was a teenager."

"Then what are you talking about?" He looks away, playing it cool. He's hoping she's not referring to the circumstances of him leaving St Sebastian's.

"I know about his drinking; about the surgery that went wrong," she says.

_She does know_.

He looks down and places his fingertips across his brow. _But how could she know?_ he thinks to himself. He looks her straight in the eye. "Did the nurses tell you about this?

"I already knew," she says. "You did the right thing, Jack."

His attitude softens, and a sensation of warmth spreads over his chest. He needed to hear those words, even if it was from one of his patients. His Mother blames him for his father running away. He opens up further about it, hoping she knows even more. "My father's gone, Theresa. He ran away, and we don't know where he is."

"He took a plane to Sydney," she remarks.

"Australia?" The warm sensation he felt seconds ago subsides at the thought of his father running away so far. "Why would he go all the way to Australia?"

"Are you ready to believe me now, Jack?" she asks him for a second time, this time waiting for his response.

He glances away at first, then reluctantly looks back. "Maybe," he whispers.

Theresa knows he's stubborn. His effort will have to suffice. "You have a half sister, Jack. Her name is Claire."

Jack stands dumbfounded. His forehead wrinkles as he tilts his head to the side. Theresa continues before Jack can get out another question. "It's 2004; which means, everything I've warned you about will be happening very shortly," she remarks.

Jack reacts with a nervous chuckle. "I have a sister, in Australia?" He crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans slightly forward. "This is all very difficult to believe, Theresa," he says.

"Please, trust me on this, Jack," she pleads. "Claire is in danger, and she desperately needs your help. When you go to Sydney to find your father, you need to find her too."

* * *

><p>It's 1977, inside the Hydra Station.<p>

Sawyer leans one last time against the aquarium glass. "The way I see it is, Doc; you have a choice. You either believe her and go down a trail like John Locke did, or you choose now to no longer believe and save yourself."

Sawyer turns to get one last look at the shark before leaving. "Just an Island of sharks and polar bears, Doc." He stares at the shark and speaks to it in his cowboy tone, as if it were the same shark that attacked him on the raft. "Why save somethin' that only wants to kill you?"

Jack looks to the ground and tightens his jaw. His instincts are divided; he wants his friends to flee and survive, but the hero inside him wants to stay behind to fix what needs fixing. Most importantly, he knows it's best they stay together no matter what they choose to do. Jack looks to Kate; she's already taken several steps toward the door.

"Which is it Doc?" Sawyer asks, his voice reminiscent of the times they played cards on the Island together. He's prodding Jack, one way or another; forcing the decision.

Jack plays his only hand, which is his belief that Theresa is right. "I've already made my choice," he says, looking him squarely in the eyes. "I'm choosing to believe."

"You do what you need to do," Sawyer retorts, the anger towards Jack evident in his voice. "I'm grabbin' the others and gettin' on board that ferry."

Hurley and Jin suddenly rush into the room, a look of angst on their faces. They're not even phased by the site of the shark swimming across the room.

"Where you boys been?" Sawyer asks.

"Jack, come!" Jin demands. He's so excited, he's only able to express two words in English. He steps aside to let Hurley do the explaining. Hurley's short of breathe from running back, and speaks between breaths.

"Dudes," he says, taking a couple more breaths.

"What's wrong?" asks Jack.

"Jin and I were like, checkin' on some of the dead bodies. We found two of them that are, like, breathin' man."

Sawyer and Jack take a serious stare at one another. For the moment, Jack's decision to stay is the right one.

"Anybody we know?" asks Jack.

"Ya, dude. You're not gonna ever believe this man. One of them is Claire."


	10. Father Figure

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 10-  
>Father Figure<strong>

"One of them is Claire."

A look of shock covers everyone's faces, especially Sawyer's. He was the last to see her on the Island before she disappeared into the jungle. "Claire?" The rush of emotions makes him forget all about being angry with Jack. "You gotta be kiddin' me. You sure it's her?"

Hurley nods. "Pretty sure dude."

Hurley and Jin lead the group down the long stretch of hallway, over and around dead bodies strewn about the floor.

"Dudes. Just to, like, warn you guys, she looks way different," Hurley explains, as he steps over one of the dead bodies. "She's got like this new hair-do thing and she looks kinda rough."

"What do you mean, kind of rough?" Sawyer grunts, his eyes squinting in skepticism that she's actually here.

"You know; rough." Hurley struggles to find the right adjectives. "Like Rambo. But like, a girl."

Jack understands. He knew that if Claire was ever found alive, she would have become a rugged individual who learned to live off the land.

"You mean like Rousseau?" Jack clarifies.

Hurley nods in agreement. "Ya man. Rough; like the French Chic." Hurley peaks inside several rooms until he finds the right one.

"We're here dudes. That's her," Hurley says, pointing to a woman lying unconscious in a bed.

Jack immediately rushes to her side. Hurley's right; at first glance he barely recognizes her. Her hair is matted. Her complexion is no longer soft; her face is tanned and covered in dirt. Her biceps and forearms are toned. She's the new Claire; the hardened, survivor Claire.

"Whoa. No longer the little Misses all of us been used to," Sawyer quips, already busy thinking of new nicknames.

Kate leans over and squeezes her calloused hand. "Claire," she whispers, hoping to wake her. "How did you get here?" she asks, again with no response.

"She's here, because we left her here," Jack responds. The burden of leaving her behind still weighs heavy on his heart.

Jin looks to Sawyer, shrugging his shoulders. "I searched Island. Searched all sectors. Nobody found," he says, his English still imperfect.

Sawyer steps forward to get a closer look; she hardly resembles the Claire he last saw sleeping next to the campfire. He remembers everything about that night. They made camp for the night in the jungle, after leaving the Dharma barracks to get to the beach rescue. When he and Miles awoke in the morning, she was nowhere to be found.

"We may have left her behind," he moans. "But we sure as hell didn't leave her here, in 1977."

* * *

><p>It's 2004.<p>

It's night time, on the Island.

A campfire crackles in a small clearing in the jungle. Sawyer, Miles, and Claire are fast asleep and nestled around the campfire.

Claire's blanket is spread wide enough over the ground for her and her baby to sleep on top of. She shifts to get comfortable, and awakens after realizing the warmth of her infant is no longer next to her side. She panics and frantically feels around the blanket. She looks across the campfire and sees a man only twenty feet away, cuddling baby Aaron. She's horrified at first, but quickly recognizes the face of a man she's only seen once in her adult life.

"Dad?"

The mysterious man places a finger to his lips. "Shh. Let's not wake your friends."

He stands, still holding the baby close to his chest. "Come. Walk with me, Claire."

"Where did you come from?" she whispers, still in shock.

The man turns and hands baby Aaron back into her arms. "I'm sorry I startled you," he says. They walk together into the jungle, further away from the light of the campfire. Claire follows from behind, still in shock. The darkness of the jungle encompasses them; she looks back at the campfire to gauge how far they've walked.

"It's really dark," she says. "Maybe we should stay a little closer to the camp fire."

Suddenly, a torch instantaneously flares up in the man's hand. It brightens the vegetation around them, even brighter than the campfire they came from. Tiny shadows formed by leaves flicker against the tree trunks and forest floor; insects awaken and flutter close to the flame. Baby Aaron opens his eyes and is quietly mesmerized by the scenery of shadow and light.

"Is this better?" the man asks, with a smirk on his face.

Claire isn't quite sure whether he picked up the torch or if it magically appeared in his hand. "Yes, thank you. That's much better," she says. She gets a closer look at her father's face; he's younger than she remembers. He's slightly unshaven, and wearing pants and boots fit for trekking through the jungle. "So, why are you here, now?" she asks him.

"I came here to protect you and your friends," he says.

He turns and continues his trek even deeper into the woods; Claire continues to follow. "Protect us? But we're about to be rescued in the morning," she says.

He slows his pace, and walks with Claire shoulder to shoulder. "If I were you Claire, I wouldn't step foot on that freighter."

"Why not?" she questions. "They're here to rescue us."

"The people on that freighter were never here to rescue anybody."

Claire looks back down at her baby; she's determined to do whatever it takes to get her and her baby off the Island. "It's been 3 months since the crash. Nobody ever came for us, until them," she replies.

He sighs, hoping to be more persuasive. "What if I told you, that in the end, only three of you survive?"

She stops mid stride and looks back again at the campfire now flickering in the far distance . A cold chill covers her neck. _This is far enough_ she thinks to herself. "I'm sorry; did you just say only three of us survive?" she asks, beginning to worry.

"Yes, only three," he answers firmly, hoping he finally has her attention. "And you don't leave by getting to the freighter; you leave on an Ajira airliner that takes off from Hydra Island." He brings the torch closer to his face to emphasize his sincerity. "Out of all the survivors of Oceanic 815; only you, Katherine Austen, and James Ford live to tell about it."

Claire looks back down to baby Aaron in her arms with worried eyes. "But what about my baby?" her voice quivers.

"That will ultimately be up to you."

She instinctively holds Aaron a little tighter. "Wait." She stops hiking mid stride again. "How do you know it will happen like this?"

"Because I've spoken with somebody who knows the future," he replies, without pausing to wait for her again.

"Knows the future? But how is that possible?"

"The Island makes it possible," he says as he steps further into the jungle. "We only have a little further to go. There's something I need to show you."

(to be continued!)


	11. Temporal Solution

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**-Chapter 11-**  
><strong>Temporal Solution<strong>

Claire holds baby Aaron tightly at her side as she carefully navigates around the limbs and rocks on the forest floor. The torch held by the man in front of her is the only light source illuminating her way. She looks back again at the campfire, which is now just a spark in the distance. _This is crazy_ she thinks. She was safe with Sawyer and Miles, and now she's deep in the woods with a father that's been a stranger for most of her life.

She catches up to him and walks next to his side, hoping to make conversation. He looks over his shoulder and smiles. "How are you?" he asks. His unfamiliar voice is actually quite comforting.

"I'm fine. A little sleepy," she says. She gets another good look at his face; a few wrinkles, but much younger than she remembers.

A small rummaging animal suddenly shuffles the ground several feet away. It startles Claire, and she instinctively tightens her walk next to the man.

"It's OK, Claire. You're safe with me," he says calmly.

She smiles in return. _Charming _she thinks to herself. This certainly wasn't her first impression of her father when she met him back in Australia six months ago. But for now, she's willing to give him another chance.

"Were almost there," he says, as he lifts a low hanging branch for them to walk under. "I apologize for waking you, but what I'm about to show you is very important."

"Oh, that's Ok," Claire yawns. She's feeling delirious from the lack of rest. She's unsure whether or not his explanation of knowing the future was meant only in a metaphorical sense. "So what else do you know about the future?" she asks, hoping to continue the conversation.

"I know that many of your friends will die on this Island, unless you and I do something about it."

It wasn't the conversation she was hoping for, but nevertheless helps her awake from the feeling of delirium. Judging from the expression on his face, he's very serious; and that the future he's referring to is in no way metaphorical. The same chill she had before revisits the back of her neck. She bites her lip for a moment, then finds courage to ask the next question.

"So, how do my friends die?" she asks.

"The man who sent the freighter, Charles Widmore; three years from now he will also be sending a submarine. Most of your friends will die trying to use it for escape."

Claire gasps at the thought of them dying in a sinking submarine. She guesses the ones she feels most likely may have found a way to survive. "What about Jack? Did he make it?" she asks.

The man shakes his head, and looks down with an expression of grief. "He escapes from the submarine, but later dies on the Island. His body was found several yards from a stream, lying in a patch of bamboo."

They reach the edge of the woods and walk along a grassy hillside. He brings the torch lower to the ground and locates a black cylindrical object jutting out of the ground.

"We're here," he says, as he drives the torch into the soft soil.

The tail end of the cylinder is hollow, like a large pipe. An array of triangular fins is attached at the end and face outward. She holds out her hand to touch it, then quickly takes her hand back after almost getting burned.

"Careful," he says.

The object radiates heat like a cooling stove. A thin stream of smoke rises from its back end.

"What is it?" she asks.

"It's a payload rocket. It's designed to lodge into the ground on impact." He kneels next to the rocket and examines the angle of entry into the ground. He looks to the sky and points, and then rotates his hand downward, pointing to the eastern horizon. "The freighter is anchored off shore, approximately twenty kilometers to the east."

"The rocket came from the freighter?" she asks.

He nods and brings his face close to the torch flame. "There's only one person on that freighter I trust. He's a man of great intelligence; a scientist who has come to the Island to study time travel."

He grips the shaft of the rocket and twists until it opens from the middle. "This rocket is the last in a series of test rockets our scientist friend launched from the freighter," he explains. He pulls out a digital timer and reads the display. "It will be launched from the freighter to travel to the Island around noon tomorrow."

"Noon tomorrow? I don't understand; the rocket is already here."

The man smirks. "You're correct. But to someone standing on the freighter, it hasn't launched _yet. _And because we _already see _the rocket here, we have knowledge of the future."

Claire looks down with a look of confusion, then back at the man. "But how is that possible?"

He smiles contently; satisfied that he's at least captured Claire's interest in the subject. "If the path of the rocket were slightly adjusted, it could have landed several days ago, or several years from now." He kneels and places the digital timer back in the rocket and twists the shaft back in place.

She shrugs her shoulders and looks back down at the rocket. "I still don't understand. How can a rocket travel through time?"

"The questions you have only lead to more questions. For now, I only need you to believe that it is possible to know the future."

She nods and looks into the man's eyes. "Yes, I believe."

"Then why don't you ask the one question that really matters?"

She looks back down to baby Aaron and squeezes him tightly, then looks again into the man's eyes. "How do I save my friends?"

* * *

><p><strong>Dear Readers.. I hope you're enjoying! I want to make a small clarification to the story before I write more chapters. This is an alternate Lost story, so I've taken the liberty at adjusting who this mysterious Christian Shepherd entity is. I need to clarify right now; he is NOT MIB, nor is he EVIL. Think of him now as a mysterious entity, created by the Island who is there to assist the losties. He is a manifestation of Christian, and possibly more than one person..I will elaborate on that later as story goes along…<strong>


	12. Remember Your Friends

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**-Chapter 12-**  
><strong>Remember Your Friends<strong>

Claire looks intently into the man's eyes. "How do I save my friends?"

He smiles in response, obviously pleased she's asked the right question. An ocean breeze suddenly blows, swaying trees in the woods nearby. It seems the Island is also reacting in agreement. The flame from the torch flickers in the wind. It almost extinguishes, but the winds suddenly cease and the flame burns calmly once again. The chill on Claire's neck returns.

"In order for your friends to live, the Island must be saved," he says.

Claire looks away confused, pondering his answer. "_Save the Island?"_ she thinks to herself. "_My father sounds like another John Locke."_

The man pulls the torch from its anchoring in the ground, and walks towards the jungle. Claire hesitates before following; she was hoping to finish this conversation out in the open. The grassy field they're standing in feels much safer than the jungle; it has a clear view of the night sky, and the moonlight illuminates their faces.

"Wait for me," she yells, adjusting her hold on her baby and rushing to catch up with him.

"Hurry, Claire. We have work to do," he says without looking back.

They cross together back into the edges of the jungle. The sounds of their footsteps change as the leaves crunch beneath their feet. He stoops beneath vines and branches, making sure the torch flame is clear of any hanging vegetation.

"What does saving the Island have to do with my friends?" she asks, still confused about his answer.

"Everything," he says, stopping in his tracks. He brings the torch close to his face for emphasis. "Once your friends are moved to _when_ they need to be, they'll be in position to save it."

"You mean moved _to the future_?"

"No, Claire; moved _to the past_."

They continue walking; Claire soon realizes he's taking her further away from her camp site. "Isn't my camp the other way?" she asks with a quivery voice, pointing the opposite direction. She looks into the jungle darkness; her heart beats faster as she considers walking back to camp alone.

"Yes, but that's not where we're going," he says. He notices she's no longer comfortable and realizes he'll need to work harder to win her confidence. "Jacob's people are waiting for us. They'll know what to do next."

"Jacob's people?" she asks, with a nervous lump in her throat. "You mean the Others?"

"Not the ones you've met. These are Others who live at the Temple," he replies, trying his best to assure her safety. "They've lived here for centuries, appointed by Jacob to protect the Island."

"I don't care about the Island!" she yells in frustration, taking several steps back. "You want to bring me and my baby back to the people who kidnapped me?"

"Claire, please. What we're doing is very important," he pleads with her.

Claire shakes her head and slowly takes more steps backward. "You never visited me in Sydney, and now you followed me here, pretending to protect me and my friends?"

"I'm not pretending," he remarks. He keeps his distance, but reaches his hand out openly, inviting her to come further. "I'm here to protect you, your friends, and, most importantly," he pauses, looking down at her baby in her arms. "Most importantly, I'm here to protect your child."

She turns to the side, and covers her baby protectively. "I'm his mum. That's my job," she says, stepping away further. She glances back in the direction of her camp. Her heart is pulsating, and her palms are sweating. "I'm going to my camp. Stay away from me and my baby."

"Please, Claire," he pleads one last time as she walks away. "Remember your friends."

She's determined to make it back to her camp. The visibility of the forest in front of her fades as she gets further away from the torch light. She takes one step at a time; extending a hand in front of her to feel for branches in her way. She turns to see if her father is still watching; he's gone, and so is the torch light.

The sounds of insects and frogs chirp all around her. She stumbles over a fallen log; the jolt awakens baby Aaron. She gently rocks him, trying her best to keep him calm. Her stumble causes her to lose her sense of direction. The sounds of insects are silenced by an escalating sound of whispers in every direction. She looks back and forth searching for the source of the sounds; she wants to run, but there's no way of escape.

Suddenly, the whispers cease and a torch flame ignites several feet ahead of her. She's relieved, but at the same time angry with him for being close by this entire time. "Are you still trying to protect me?" she yells, embarrassed she never made it far on her own.

The man stands there in silence, holding the torch. He seems different than before. He's shorter, and wearing a different style of clothes; faded jeans and a thin hooded jacket. The hoodie is pulled over his head, shadowing the features of his face.

Claire walks anxiously closer. "Hello? Dad? Is that you?"

The man slowly pulls his hood off. The torch illuminates his patchy beard and rounded nose. He grins with a strangely familiar gap tooth and rocker smile.

"Hello, Claire," he says in a thick British accent.

"Ch-Ch-Charlie?" she says, stuttering in disbelief. She squints to refocus in the dim light. She can't believe her eyes.

"It's me," he replies, his eyes tearing up. "He brought me here to speak with you."


	13. Sister Sacrifice

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**-Chapter 13-**  
><strong>Sister Sacrifice<strong>

"He brought me here to speak with you."

Claire continues to stare in disbelief. It's been only a couple weeks since Charlie ventured out to the Looking Glass and never returned. She remembers hearing the terrible news, then crying on Hurley's shoulders for what seemed like an eternity.

Her mind is racing; fond memories of their times together return to the forefront of her mind, and so does the heartache of losing him. The pain nags at her soul, compelling her to accept he's really gone and that what she sees before her now is only an illusion. She closes her eyes for a moment, believing any second her vision of Charlie will morph back into her father.

She opens her eyes again; Charlie winks and smiles back at her. "Sorry I scared you, but I figured you could use a little company in the middle of this dark spooky jungle."

Her eyesight is still unclear, but it's difficult to deny the familiarity of his voice. Each word heavily pronounced with his signature British band accent; it's enough for her to question that maybe she's not hallucinating. "Charlie?" she whispers with a cry, stepping nearer to him. A tear streaks down her cheek. The aching of her heart fades as she steps forward and believes.

"It's really me, Claire," he assures her as he walks closer, the expression on his face equally joyful. It's a small yet heartfelt Island reunion; and for the moment, the three of them are reunited as the Island family they once were. Charlie comes as near as he can without touching her. Unfortunately, embracing her and holding her baby is an impossibility. "I would love to hug you, but I'm a ghost. I'll probably pass right through you," he says with a chuckle.

Claire doesn't mind; she's grateful she's at least able to speak with him again. "How are you here, Charlie?" she asks, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I'm here because I'm asking you to go back, Claire," he says. The torch flickers in a sudden breeze; the flame illuminates his ghostly face, but is absent of any shadow.

Claire looks behind her into the darkness of the jungle. "Go back? To my father?" she says, shaking her head. "I don't trust him."

"He's not your father."

Claire turns back with a puzzled look on her face. "What are you talking about?"

"He only appears like him," he explains. "He's someone that's been on this Island for a very long time. He has a plan to bring all of us back; including me."

Claire only remembers the man saying he could prevent her friends dying in the future, not in the past. "But Charlie, how can you come back? You're already dead."

"But I don't have to be," he says smiling. The torch flickers again; the flame diminishes slightly, and so does the visibility of his face. Charlie feels around his arms and chest to make sure he's still solid, then looks back to Claire with a sigh of relief. "I've been given only a short amount of time. Once the flame burns out, I'll be leaving once again."

She watches with angst as the torch top burns away, figuring she only has several minutes with him. "Please, Charlie, don't leave!" She reaches for his hand, but she only passes through him, just like he said.

Charlie looks down and moves his hand across the surface of her skin. The sensation she feels is like a cool breeze mixed with static electricity. "You can help save me, permanently; if you go back to him."

She imagines feeling Charlie's actual physical hand once again; she's willing to do whatever it takes to bring him back. "What does he need me to do?" she asks, shrugging her shoulders.

"He needs you to stay on the Island," he says.

Claire looks back again into the darkness of the jungle, then turns and looks into his eyes. "Will you come with me, Charlie?"

"I can't," he says, shaking his head then kneeling to the ground. "I'm dead, which means there are certain boundaries that I'm not allowed to cross." He places the torch close to the ground and shows her a fine substance poured across the terrain. It forms a line right in between where they stand.

She kneels down next to him, holding her baby close to her side. "What is that?" she asks.

"All of us we're brought here for a reason, Claire. It started as a disagreement between two brothers who were born on this Island a very long time ago." He picks up a handful of the powdery substance, and slowly pours it back into place. "These are the ashes of those who sacrificed their lives for the cause that ultimately proved right."

Claire dabs her finger in the substance, but quickly pulls her finger back after realizing it to be cremated ash. "Which brother was right?" she asks.

"Fortunately for mankind, Jacob _will_ be."

The torch suddenly sparks and flickers, producing more smoke than light. Charlie stands back up to say his final farewell.

"Please don't go, Charlie," she cries out with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"We'll be together again, Claire," Charlie replies calmly. The torch sputters a couple more sparks; his face and body slowly becoming indistinguishable with the darkness behind him. "He's waiting for you. Look for the light in the window."

The sparks fully extinguish, and the torch falls to the ground. Claire let's out one last emotional sob, then picks her head up again. She ponders over Charlie's last sentence of instruction._ "Light in the window?"_ she thinks to herself.

She adjusts her hold on her baby, then walks away from the ash line. She shuffles her feet across the ground, being careful not to trip over any fallen logs like she did before. The jungle is peaceful; the sounds of chirping frogs, insects, and whispering ghosts are completely silenced. She only hears the crunching of twigs and leaves beneath her feet, which gives her a sense of the distance she's traveled.

After several minutes of walking, she figures she must be coming close. She looks in every direction, for any sign of movement or something familiar. She notices there's something unusual in the pattern of the trees; a dark wooden structure camouflaged in the canopy. She holds her baby tightly, and walks closer toward it.

"Hello, anybody there?" she yells. A light turns on in the window of the structure; she remembers again Charlie's instructions. She comes closer and is able to distinguish the roofline and the front door of an old abandoned cabin. The front door creeks open, and a man appearing as Christian Shepherd steps on to the porch.

"Hello, Claire," he says grinning, thankful she chose to return.

Claire walks up the steps of the porch. "Is it true, everything Charlie said?"

He nods, continuing to grin.

Baby Aaron suddenly wakes up and cries. The man holds out his hands, offering to hold the baby for her. After carrying the baby through the woods for hours, she welcomes the offer of relief.

He takes Aaron into his arms, and he immediately calms down. He's quietly mesmerized, and even reaches his tiny hands towards the man's face.

"You are not my father?" she asks, hoping to hear the answer directly from him. The man continues to look down, cuddling baby Aaron and rocking him. So far, he seems as if he'd be the perfect grandfather.

"It's complicated, Claire," he replies. "The Shepherd family is very complicated."

"Shepherd?" she asks. The last name sounds familiar to her, but she's unable to place it.

"Yes, Shepherd," he says smiling. He touches the baby's nose with his finger; baby Aaron reacts with a giggle. Claire smiles, feeling even more comfortable after seeing the way her baby and the man interact with each other.

"So what do we do next?" she asks.

"We wait."

"Wait for what?" she asks.

"_For the physicist_."

* * *

><p><strong>Attention readers. Another small MIB clarification. Just so you know, Charlie is really Charlie, not MIB. Hope you're enjoying. Please leave me a comment if you've made it this far!<strong>


	14. Man of Science, Man of Music

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**-Chapter 14-**  
><strong>Man of Science, Man of Music<strong>

2004, Los Angeles.

Daniel sits motionless with head bowed and shoulders slumped. He's seated before an antique grand piano and staring blankly at the piano keys; _he doesn't remember where he is or how he got there_. The metronome on top of the piano ticks at a steady rhythm.

*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock*

He places his fingers in position and nonchalantly plays a simple chord. The familiar sound and touch settles his confusion; it's the same piano he played growing up in England. He smiles as he thinks back to his childhood; a time when music became his world of discovery.

His Mother, Eloise Hawking, discovered Daniel's musical genius at a very early age. She urged him to aggressively pursue music, and to avoid any entrapments which could detract from creativity, including his equal fascination with science and mathematics. Daniel complied; music was the one passion he didn't want to live without. She would often remind him of his extraordinary gift and what he was meant to do with it. "Your gift, Daniel, is your mind. A mind that was meant for creativity, not science; and it's my job to keep you on that path," she once said to him.

Daniel looks away from the piano and recognizes furniture and other fixtures around him. His memory still isn't fully refreshed, but he concludes he must be in the living room of his mother's suburban Los Angeles home.

He turns back to the piano and reads over the sheet music placed on the music stand. The arrangement of notes instantly translates to a melody in his mind. He's eager to play; he straightens his shoulders and places his fingers on the keys. He whispers a count in sync with the ticking metronome to lead himself in.

*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock- -uh-one-two-three-four*

The music begins; his fingers rapidly ascend up and down the keys. It's a classical piece; Chopin, perhaps. He plays with passion, mimicking changing melodies by swaying and jolting his head. He plays to the last page, but the song doesn't seem to be coming to an end. He shuffles the music to find the next page, and discovers a leather bound journal hidden behind the papers.

He opens it, and quickly recognizes it's his own handwriting. The journal is filled with complex mathematical formulas and physics diagrams. As he reads, the vibration of the piano strings fade until the piano is silent once again, leaving the sound of the metronome ticking in the background.

*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock*

For Daniel, reading the equations and diagrams is much like reading music; his mind instantly translates the complexities of the diagrams into visions of reality. In a matter of minutes, he's fully refreshed in his understanding of quantum physics and general relativity.

His smile fades to a more serious expression as he gradually remembers where he left off. He was writing this journal in an effort to prevent something terrible from happening. The diagrams illustrate theoretical possibilities of time travel; perhaps he's trying to prevent something that _already has happened._

He closes his eyes and concentrates on remembering; a flash, much like a memory or dream, appears at the forefront of his mind. The flash is yellow, but the image he sees is of red hair on a woman; the most beautiful woman he could ever imagine. He ponders his vision for a moment; is she a memory in the past that never existed? Or maybe a _future_ he wants to exist?

Meanwhile, the metronome on top of the piano continues to tick.

*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock*

He closes the journal and puts it back on the stand. He looks to the sheet music and considers playing from the beginning again. This time, the arrangements of notes are difficult for him to translate. He looks back to the journal, then back to the music.

Then back to the journal. Then back to the music again.

*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock*

He stands from the piano bench, and walks over to a bookcase in the corner of the living room. He blows the dust off an old photo album and opens it. It's a collection of childhood photographs mixed with other pictures of people his mother knew. The images calm his mind, allowing him to reflect on memories growing up. As he delves deeper into the pages of the album, the people and places are less recognizable. He pauses, as he sees a peculiar picture labeled "Bromsgrove, Worcester"; he sees a young red-headed girl swinging on a swing in a playground.

*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock -Ti- ****silence****

The metronome ticks suddenly cease. Daniel turns back to the piano and sees Eloise place the cover back over the metronome.

"You were playing beautifully, Daniel; what happened?" she asks.

He shrugs his shoulders and looks back to the photo of the child with red hair. "The red headed girl playing on a swing; who is she, Mother?"

Eloise sighs and tries her best to hide her disappointment. This isn't the first time Daniel has found that particular picture; each time, she gives him a different name with a different answer. But lately she's been growing weary in hiding the truth, and thinks perhaps telling him a small bit of truth wouldn't harm. After all, he'll soon forget this conversation together ever took place.

"Her name is Charlotte; and she's not a little girl anymore," she answers truthfully.

"Charlotte?" he whispers beneath his breath. The yellow tinted memory again flashes before his eyes. "What happened to her?"

"She's just fine, dear. She's now Dr. Charlotte Lewis, distinguished Professor of Anthropology," she answers while biting her lip, hoping she hasn't revealed too much. She walks over to the piano and sits at the edge of the bench, hoping to change the subject by tempting him to play his music. "Daniel, please; why don't you come over to the piano with me and play once again?" she requests with a soft motherly voice.

While straightening the music on the stand for him, she finds the leather journal. She gasps in shock, and places a hand over her mouth. The circumstance she's made every effort to avoid for her and her son has finally arrived. She slowly opens the pages of the journal and discovers the complex diagrams and formulas Daniel has been writing in secret.

"I see you've been dabbling in matters I've warned you about," she says, her tone no longer soft and motherly.

Daniel nods, appearing slightly ashamed he's written the journal without her knowledge. "I can save her," he says, still staring at the photo of the little girl. "The people we left behind on the Island; I think I can save all of them."

"The Island?" she says with a nervous chuckle, hoping his memory loss occurs again very soon. "Please darling, don't ever mention such things!" She walks over with the music in one hand and the physics journal in the other. She shows him both, hoping he continues to choose music. "You've been given such a wonderful life. You are free to play and create music as much as you please. What good is it to dabble with science and question things as they are?"

Daniel experiences another vision of the red-haired woman. It's no longer a quick flash but a vivid memory he's able to recall. "Because, Mother, I'm beginning to believe, the life that I'm living; the lives all of us are living, are not the lives we are intended to live."

"Very well," she responds halfheartedly. She places the photo album back on the book shelf, then walks up behind him pretending to be interested. "Please, show me what remedies you have in mind."

Daniel grins with excitement and opens his journal to a complex diagram illustrating alternate timelines and parallel universes. "The solution I came up with is; using a large release of energy combined with the electromagnetic." Suddenly, he hears a hiss of air and feels a sharp pain in his shoulder. He's unable to complete his sentence and falls faint to the floor.

"Dear God. Please, forgive me Daniel," says Eloise, standing over him holding a pneumatic syringe. Daniel closes his eyes and falls unconscious from the effects of the strong tranquilizer his mother injected him with.

She picks up the phone next to the couch and calmly dials a long distance number. After several rings, a receptionist answers. "Good morning, Widmore Industries. How may I help you?"

Eloise clears her throat then responds. "Yes, may I speak with Charles please?"

"May I ask whose calling?" she asks.

Eloise pauses before choosing how to reveal her identity. "Please, tell him it's the woman from the church in Los Angeles, and that his son is in danger."


	15. See You in Michigan

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**-Chapter 15-**  
><strong>See You in Michigan<strong>

2004, London, England.

"Excuse me, Mr. Widmore," the receptionist announces through the speaker phone in Charle's office. "You have a call; line 2." Her voice is noticeably shaky. She realizes she's interrupting a meeting between him and several important business partners. The last time she interrupted, Charles scolded her for days and threatened to fire her.

The wrinkles from his forehead extend downward beneath his brow, creating the signature dimple between his eyes. He pauses to maintain his composure, then calmly responds. "I'm busy. Please, take a message."

"She told me it was important," she says, her voice still trembling.

"My dear, I can assure you, the meeting I am currently in the middle of is more important," he responds impatiently, his voice no longer soft. "Who is she?"

The receptionist doesn't know the caller's name. She pauses before answering, creating an awkward moment of silence. "She's from a church in Los Angeles. It's concerning your son, sir."

He raises his eyebrows; his face remains stern, but on the inside, his heart is saddened. It's the phone call he realized would eventually come, but tried to live each day as it never would. He looks solemnly to his business partners sitting before him at his desk. "Gentlemen; it appears I have a situation to address. Please excuse me for the moment."

They immediately take the hint. "Of course, Charles," one of them says. They straighten their ties and stand from their chairs. Charles taps the button on the phone once they leave the room.

"Hello, Elly," he answers warmly, his tone sounding less business.

Eloise takes a breathe before responding. It's been years since anyone has called her by her Island nickname. "Hello Charles," she replies.

"How is he?" he asks, leaning forward toward the speaker.

Eloise looks down at her living room floor; Daniel is motionless at her feet with eyes closed. "He's unconscious at the moment. I used the tranquilizer."

"What happened?" he asks.

"I discovered the journal, Charles." Her throat tightens to the point where it's difficult to swallow. She struggles to get the remaining words out. "It's too late. He's beginning to remember."

"I see," he responds while looking to the clock on the wall. "We must act quickly."

"Yes, we must," she says, also checking the time. "I did my best."

"Indeed. You've done well, Elly," he responds, sensing the anxiety in her voice. "Thanks to your efforts, he has lived a very fulfilling life. But now, it is no longer up to you; it is up to the Island."

"Please, Charles; come as soon as you can," she says.

"Yes, of course. But before I do, I better ask; do you know the whereabouts of the girl?" asks Charles.

"Theresa is safe. She's at St. Sebastian's, being taken care of by Christian's son," she explains.

"Very well. Please, make the necessary arrangements," he says.

"Will do, Charles," she replies. "I'll see you soon in Michigan."

"See you in Michigan."


	16. Fixing Theresa

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**-Chapter 16-**  
><strong>Fixing Theresa<strong>

2004, Los Angeles.

Jack no longer needs the wakeup calls from his secretary. It's early morning at St. Sebastian's and the streetlights are still humming; Jack pulls into a mostly empty parking lot and enters the hospital through the main entrance. As expected, he's the first doctor to arrive on his floor. "Mornin' Doc," says the custodian, mopping the bathroom entrance before the morning rush of people.

Jack peaks his head into Theresa's room to check on her. Her heartbeat monitor beats softly in the background; she's been unconscious now for over a week. Her comatose state has made preparation for surgery even more complicated.

Fixing Theresa has become Jack's latest obsession. Ever since her condition worsened, he consistently comes to work early and stays late. His personality drives him to perfection as a surgeon, but causes him to lose control in other areas of his life. His face is pale and eyes droopy from the lack of sleep. His hair is sloppily combed, and his facial hair has grown from afternoon shadow into a stubby beard.

Jack leaves the patient area and enters his office. Piles of papers are stacked high around his desk. Crumpled food wrappers from last night's takeout are tossed short of the garbage bin. He takes a seat at his desk and shuffles the piles to find where he left off reading.

He finds a framed picture of his mom and dad buried beneath the papers; he blows off the dust and puts it back in place. He takes a moment to reflect. He's reminded of his runaway father; but just like everything else in Jack's life, he'll have time again once he's done with Theresa.

He finds the medical journal he was reading over last night. He takes the time to study the article on spinal surgery. He circles and underlines important text, then tosses it back on the pile once he's finished.

He looks to the clock on the wall, then back again to his parent's picture; he stares into his father's image. The workplace certainly feels different without him. The encouraging pats on the back. The unanticipated one-on-one lectures; "timeouts" as Jack likes to call them. He feels as if his father is staring back at him. "I can fix her, Dad," he whispers beneath his breath. "You'll see."

He looks to his watch, then types a quick email with subject line _Theresa Spencer_ addressed to his surgery team email group: _Everybody scrub out by 7:30, surgery room 3, see you in 10 min_. He walks away, not realizing one of the dozen unread emails in his inbox also has the subject line _Theresa Spencer_.

He loosens his collar and takes off his tie. Like Clark Kent stepping into a phone booth, he steps into an office bathroom, and comes out a superhero surgeon with scrubs on. It's Theresa's day for a miracle, which means it's Jack's day to be the miracle worker.

He exits his office and walks toward the elevator. Several other physicians say hello in the hallway, but Jack stares forward and doesn't respond; he's too focused to even make eye contact. After getting off the next floor, he enters the sterilizing room for surgery room 3 and starts scrubbing his hands in the sink.

He realizes the moment is near. He takes a deep breath; the warm running water helps him relax. He splashes his face, then looks at his foggy reflection in the mirror. Suddenly, he takes notice he's all by himself. He dries his hands and peaks inside the operation room; Theresa isn't on the operating table and his surgery staff is nowhere to be found.

He's confused. He's certain he wrote 7:30 in the email; besides, he and his staff have been discussing the surgery all week. He walks into the hallway and takes the elevator to the patient floor. He approaches room 108; Theresa's bed is empty, and the room is unusually tidy.

Jack's heart races. _Something's wrong_ he thinks to himself. His face regains its color as he becomes flush with anger. He races down the hallway and approaches the nurses' station, hoping somebody has answers.

He tries to get the nurse's attention as she chats away on the phone. "Excuse me," he says, forgetting the nurse's name in the heat of the moment. She looks at Jack, slightly annoyed and with the phone still glued to her ear. "Excuse me," he says again, his voice slightly harsher.

She puts the phone on her shoulder, and fakes a smile. "Yes, Dr. Shepherd?"

"Where is my patient?" Jack places his hands on the counter and taps his fingers. "Theresa Spencer? She was scheduled for surgery."

The nurse looks to the computer monitor and searches for Theresa's name. "Theresa. Oh, yes. Theresa Spencer."

"Yes?" Jack asks, his fingers tapping louder.

"She was released from the hospital this morning. Her family signed her out."


	17. Chasing Theresa

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 17-**  
><strong>Chasing Theresa<strong>

"She was released from the hospital this morning," explains the nurse, reading from a computer inside the nurse's station. "Her family signed her out."

Jack stops tapping his fingers. Instead, he grabs the edges of the counter and firmly squeezes. "Family?" he asks with a look of sarcasm.

"Yes, her family," the nurse replies, nodding her head.

Jack looks to the side and chuckles nervously. The anger building inside him finally erupts. "Theresa doesn't have _family_!" he yells at the top of his voice.

The nurse drops her jaw and loses the pretend smile. Her eyes swell with forming tears. The morning shift of doctors and nurses walking nearby turn to see what the commotion is.

The nurse hangs up the phone that was resting on her shoulder. She tries speaking confidently, but her voice is barely a whisper. "Dr. Shepherd, I can assure you, they had all the proper documentation."

Jack turns from the nurse's station and sees a crowd of doctors and nurses silently staring back at him. Jack is barely recognizable to many of his colleagues; he's lost weight, and his uneven facial hair makes him look more like a psychiatric patient than a surgeon.

"Dr. Shepherd, I sent you an email this morning. Did you receive it?" asks the nurse. She tenses in anticipation of another outburst.

Jack drops his head and shrugs his shoulders. He was so close to saving Theresa's life; and now the patient he's obsessed with is outside his care and control.

"Is everything OK, Dr. Shepherd?" asks a fellow physician.

Jack nods and tries keeping his composure. He looks behind the crowd of onlookers, and suddenly notices a comatose woman with blonde hair being rolled into the elevator on a stretcher. His look of desperation turns to determination. His eyes fixate toward the elevator, his heart pounding with adrenaline. He slowly paces forward, the crowd steps back to give him room. His pace turns to a jog, and then to a mad dash. "What's wrong Jack?" asks another physician. He reaches the elevator just as it chimes and doors slide closed.

Jack repeatedly presses the elevator button. It's too late; the light signals its arrival to the first floor. Jack runs down the hallway and flings open the fire exit door and sprints down the stairwell. He exits and scans the crowded lobby of the first floor. The morning rush of hospital employees is at its peak, making it difficult to distinguish anybody in the crowd.

He rushes through the lobby and out the main entrance, pushing people around him to clear the way. He looks around and observes every detail in the patient drop off area; people coming and going, cars arriving and driving off. Suddenly, he notices a suspicious navy blue van parked at the far end. It's a work van, with a company logo "Canton Ranier" emblazoned across the side. The driver side window rolls up, and the van pulls away.

"Stop!" he commands in frustration. Jack sprints toward it, but quickly realizes his pursuit on foot is all in vein. He feels his pockets; fortunately, he's carrying his car keys.

He dashes toward the parking lot, zigzagging between parked cars while keeping an eye on the van's direction. He presses the unlock button on his key chain and quickly hops in his BMW. He squeals out of the parking lot.

_The chase begins_.

The blue van is barely within eyesight. He races down a busy city street, running several yellow lights before following it on to the freeway. Jack cuts in and out of lanes of traffic to catch up, but soon loses sight of it.

He punches the steering wheel in anger, then slows down to think about his next move. A 747 jet descends closely overhead to land at LAX. He exits the freeway toward the airport, anticipating that's where the van must be heading.

He reaches the airport and pulls into the passenger drop off. He gets out of his car, frantically looking for the blue van, or anything else suspicious. He looks toward the parking garage and notices an ambulance parked on the first floor.

It's diagonally parked over three spaces with rear doors left open; obviously parked in a hurry. Jack jogs over, realizing that he's probably too late. It's a private company ambulance with a Michigan license plate. The tires are warm and the heat from its diesel engine is still dissipating. Jack peaks inside the back; the stretcher is missing and the interior lighting is dimmed. He slams the back door in frustration.

A vehicle parked close by suddenly starts its engine and brightens its headlights. It idles slowly forward; he immediately recognizes it as the blue van he was chasing. Jack stands his ground; the van comes to a stop in front of him.

The headlights blind Jack's view; he squints his eyes, and watches a man, short in stature, exit the passenger side.

"Where is she!" Jack demands.

The man approaches Jack with a smile; his hands are gestured openly to signal he comes in peace. "I don't know, Jack," he answers. "I didn't take your patient. I only followed the ambulance; which means you must have followed me."

The man holds his hand up to signal to the driver. The headlights turn off and Jack's able to see his face without squinting. He's familiar in a mysterious way, much like the way he felt when he first met Theresa. "Who are you?" Jack asks.

He tightens his distance to Jack, as an attempt to enforce his charisma. "Honestly, Jack, I'm not sure anymore." Jack senses his tight lip smile is only his natural crafty expression. He seems as trustworthy as a car salesman, yet Jack continues to lend him an ear. His speech is eloquent, and his demeanor is sly. "Not very long ago, I was Dr. Linus; a respected history teacher at a Los Angeles public high school. Then I came to find out one of my brightest students was actually my daughter I was responsible for killing in another life."

"What are you talking about?" Jack places his hand on his brow and wrinkles his forehead. This isn't exactly the conversation he imagined having after chasing down the bad guy in a van.

"These people are ruthless, Jack, and you need to be careful," he says.

"I'm only trying to save her life," Jack replies.

Dr. Linus looks down and shakes his head. "They don't care, Jack. They never did." He reaches in his pocket and gives Jack a black and white business card with a Dharma logo at the center. "If you want to find your patient, and the answers you're seeking; you need to go to Ann Arbor, Michigan. Look for a Professor Gerald DeGroot, and his research establishment the Dharma Initiative."

Dr. Linus turns and opens the van door. "Be very careful," he warns one last time. He hops in the passenger seat, and rolls down the window. "Like I've always told you, Jack, _we're the good guys_."


	18. No Matter What

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 18-  
><strong>**No Matter What**

2004, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

Deep inside the basement laboratory of Towsley Medical Clinic, Daniel and Theresa lie unconscious in adjacent beds; their bodies hooked into various medical monitoring devices.

Eloise Hawking waits patiently next to Daniel's bed for him to awaken. Her heart is stricken with grief as the unfortunate circumstance she helped create for him 27 years ago imminently approaches.

"Daniel, if you can hear me." She squeezes his hand and leans over further to whisper in his ear. "I want you to know, that _no matter what_." She hesitates while thinking of the right words to finish her sentence. She squeezes his hand again; it's obvious he's so deeply sedated he's unaware. And even if Daniel could hear her words, he would likely soon forget them.

She looks to his physics journal sitting on the stand next to the bed. She takes a pen and opens to the first page, inscribing the words that were forever destined to be written:

_Daniel,  
><em>_No matter what, remember,  
><em>_I will always love you.  
><em>_-Mother_

Charles Widmore abruptly enters the room, oblivious to the emotional torment Eloise is experiencing. "How is she?" he asks.

Eloise takes offense for his asking first about Theresa. She slaps the journal shut, and peers bitterly in his direction. "Are you of no concern for your son, Charles?"

"Yes, of course I am," he responds. His tone is polite but unapologetic. "Daniel is simply sedated. He will awaken very soon."

Eloise senses his lack of compassion, and chooses to point out Charles's absence of fatherhood. "And when he does awaken, may you finally understand the suffering he experiences due to memory loss, and the sacrifices I've had to make as a mother to raise him."

"Point taken," he responds, plainly observing, but not sharing in her frustrations. He's unable to personify empathy in any kind of way, but is always eager to offer a solution. "The Island will be able to heal his memory loss."

She softens to his sincere response, but knows the solution is ultimately self-defeating. "Yes of course, Charles. But if he does go, the Island will also kill him."

He maintains his stern expression, and again responds without regard to her feelings. "The Island didn't kill him, _you did_."

She stands quickly from the chair and slaps him firmly across the jaw. "How dare you speak to me in such manner!" she yells, her voice trembling. She bolts quickly toward the door, having enough of Charles's appalling remarks.

Charles feels the underside of his lip, and sees the blood on his finger. "He's my son too, Elly."

"He isn't dead yet!" she screams as she slams the door behind her.


	19. The Anthropologist

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 19-  
><strong>**The Anthropologist**

"He's my son too, Elly."

"He isn't dead yet!" screams Eloise.

She slams the door, and steps into the hallway. The basement of the medical clinic is as dark as a dungeon, and as quiet as a morgue. It's the ideal place to house the Dharma Initiative's secret experiments and patients. Her eyes slowly adjust as she makes her way toward the elevator; the hallway is unusually narrow and lined with exterior brick instead of drywall.

The elevator chimes and its doors slide open. Eloise steps forward at the same time a woman is exiting, colliding face to face.

"Oh, dear! I apologize," she says.

"Oy!" says the woman exiting the elevator. Her hair is red, and she's wearing a lab coat with a Dharma logo on the chest pocket. "No worries. Not many people come to visit the 'dungeon', as I like to call it." Her accent is British, and her pronunciation is excitedly fast, jumbling her words together. Her demeanor is personable and light hearted; she quickly brushes off their collision as accidental.

Eloise responds with a smile, then nervously holds her breathe as she realizes who she is. Her red hair was the obvious clue. Despite all her efforts to help Daniel, his destiny as a physicist and meeting the woman he loves is quickly piecing together. Eloise bites her lip and decides to cut the moment short. "Good day," she says as she quickly enters the elevator.

"Bye," says the red haired woman.

Eloise watches her walk towards the room she just came from and figures Charles wants to speak with her. The temptation to say something looms in the back of her mind. The elevator begins to close. _Now is the time_ she says to herself. Eloise holds out her hand, forcing the elevator doors to automatically retract.

"You need to know, Charlotte, that he loved you very much," she says, her voice echoing down the narrow chamber.

Charlotte stops cold in her tracks. "Excuse me?" she says, turning her face.

Eloise exits the elevator and walks toward her. "The year was 1954. He was a prisoner of my people. I was escorting him at gunpoint to show him a weapon we needed him to disarm; a nuclear device we apprehended from the United States Army."

Charlotte shows her confusion by squinting her eyes and shaking her head. "What prisoner? What are you talking about?" she asks.

"At the time, I was young and beautiful. I figured he was staring at me. He said I looked familiar; I shrugged him off and called him a Romeo, because only minutes before I heard him profess his love for you, Charlotte."

"I don't understand." Charlotte swallows and tries smiling again. Her personable demeanor is difficult to maintain. The moment is uncomfortable, and so is the hallway they're standing in. "A man, in 1954, professed his love for me?" she asks.

Eloise nods. "That man is my son, whom you are just about to meet on the other side of that door," she says, pointing down the hallway. "You were there too, my dear; on the Island you've been searching for all your life."

Charlotte stands dumbfounded. The mention of an Island brings clarity, and makes her story more believable. Charlotte's childhood memories are still vague, but she remembers living on an island with barracks and hatches and sonic fences for several years. After moving back to England, young Charlotte would often ask about the island, but her mother would laugh and tell her it was all in her imagination. This drove Charlotte in a quest to find the truth, eventually leading her to become an anthropologist to study ancient civilizations that might have once visited this magical place.

And now, 27 years later, Dr. Charlotte Staples Lewis has moved to Michigan to be part of the Dharma Initiative; an organization dedicated to the pursuit of scientific knowledge, and finding the Island they once inhabited.

Charlotte smiles at Eloise and reaches for the door. "In that case, I can't wait to meet him," she says. She knocks twice, then enters the room.

Eloise loses her smile and whispers beneath her breath. "You already have, my dear; _you already have_."


	20. Keys to the Island

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 20-  
><strong>**Keys to the Island  
><strong>

Charlotte's heart flutters in anticipation of meeting this mysterious man who once pledged, or will pledge, his love for her. She knocks twice and turns the handle, hoping that maybe he's standing at the door waiting to greet her.

She enters; the room is eerily still. The hum of fluorescent lighting and electronics echoes faintly off the barren cement walls. Daniel and Theresa remain motionless in their beds, hooked into various pieces of medical equipment. Her heart flutters again, no longer in anticipation but in angst. The scene of two unconscious bodies was not at all what she was expecting.

"Dr. Lewis, thank you for coming." Charles Widmore leans forward from a reclined chair in the room corner. He places his reading glasses on the lamp stand and closes the book he was reading. "Please, come in."

She timidly steps closer to Daniel and Theresa. Her heart sinks in her chest as she considers what she got herself into by joining the Dharma Initiative. "Sir, may I ask? Who are these people?"

Charles stands from his chair and straightens his coat and tie. "This man is the key to finding the Island. And the woman; she is the key to saving it."

Charlotte walks next to Daniel's side and peers closely at his face. He's a very thin man sporting a poorly trimmed beard. He's not at all somebody she initially finds attractive; although, she's very intrigued by his familiarity. She thinks hard, trying to place the memory of his face. The sinking feeling in her chest weighs even heavier as she suddenly makes the connection. "Oh no," she whispers. Her palms break into a sweat as she nervously crosses her arms.

Charles notices she's uncomfortable. He walks to her side and places his hand on her shoulder. "Dr. Lewis, have you met this man before?"

She nods slowly and cautiously takes a step backward. "He looks exactly as he did twenty seven years ago." A rush of childhood memories gathers to the forefront of her mind; experiences she could never quite differentiate from dreams until this very moment. "Sir, when we do find the Island, I'm not sure if I should go."

"My dear, all of us have a destiny we will someday face," says Charles, tightening his grip on her shoulder to comfort her. "Either choose to run from it, or choose to embrace it."

She looks back to Daniel, hoping he awakens any moment. "But what if we _choose_ our destiny?"

"Until recently, that is exactly what his mother believed," says Charles.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. Eloise opens it slowly; her expression still anxious and upset since the last time her and Charles spoke.

"Please, come in Elly. You're not interrupting," says Charles.

"We have a visitor," Eloise replies, her voice shaking nervously. She opens the door wider, revealing Jack standing behind her holding a gun to her head.

Jack's face is flush with anger as he makes eye contact with Charles. "I found you!" he yells. He forces Eloise into the room and turns the gun toward Charles. "I know who you are!"

Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender while Charles remains cool and collected. "Dr. Shepherd. Please, give me a chance to explain."

Jack looks over and sees Theresa lying in bed. "You kidnapped my patient," he replies, gnashing his teeth. "There is no explanation!"

"Yes, there is." Charles approaches him calmly but quickly with his hands poised to defend. Jack reacts by pulling the trigger repeatedly, but the gun fails to fire. "You can't harm me." He quickly wrestles the gun from Jack's hand, and points it right back at him. Jack stands stunned and raises his hands in surrender. "Nor can I harm you." Charles pulls the trigger, and once again the gun fails to fire. He flips the gun around and hands it right back. Jack stands dumbfounded and places the pistol back in his pocket.

Charlotte watches in amazement and breathes a sigh of relief. "Excuse me, but what the hell just happened?" she asks, as she lowers her trembling hands from surrender.

"Do you believe in destiny now, Dr. Lewis?" says Charles.


	21. Chosen to Lead

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 21-  
><strong>**Chosen to Lead  
><strong>

"Do you believe in destiny now, Dr. Lewis?"

She nervously glances to the pistol in Jack's pocket, unsure whether she's under the same miraculous protection covering Charles. She looks into Jack's eyes; he seems to be a reasonable man, just understandably confused. "I don't know what to believe anymore," she says, shaking her head.

Charles realizes she's frightened. "Don't be afraid. Like me, you also can not be harmed," he assures her.

Jack's anger simmers beneath; without a working gun he realizes he's powerless to do anything. "I don't believe in destiny," he remarks in defiance. "The future is determined by the choices we make."

"Tell me Jack; did you _choose_ for your gun not to discharge?"

Jack stubbornly opens the pistol handle to check for bullets; the casing holds a full round and the bullets are properly loaded. He slips one out and holds it to the light to examine it. "How did you stop it from firing?" he asks.

"It's not magic, if that's what you're suggesting," he snickers. "It's because each one of us in this room share a very unique connection."

"Connection?" Jack's annoyed for being strung along in this mystery, and ready to sneer at any kind of farfetched explanation. "What kind of connection?"

"The Island."

Charles walks over to Theresa's bed and turns on several switches to her brain monitoring equipment. Multiple screen displays light up. Although she's unconscious, the charts and graphs reveal a flurry of activity. "Each of us in this room, including Theresa, happened to be on the Island during the same period of time; 1977."

"1977?" Jack remembers that date as the beginning of Theresa's medical records.

Charles points to a line oscillating up and down on the screen. "Dr. Shepherd, what do you suppose this particular graph indicates?"

Jack watches the monitor closely; he's already familiar with Theresa's unusual neural activity. "Speech recognition," he answers.

"She's probably on the Island right now, having a conversation with you." Theresa's expression is peaceful; her eyelids twitch as if she were in a deep sleep. "And because you are with her, that makes you profoundly special, Jack. It is my belief that you were uniquely _chosen to lead_ a small group of survivors in an effort to save the Island."

Jack takes a moment to observe the equipment around the room; it looks like an episode of a 1970s era Star Trek. An array of decades old electronics are mounted into the walls. Flashing red buttons, rolling numeric displays, and analog tape recorders signal and record whatever scientific readings the devices are measuring. "Who are you people?" he asks.

"Eloise and I were part of a group of people who once inhabited the Island. My people, along with the Dharma Initiative, were forced to flee after the Incident took place 27 years ago. No one has been back or been able to find the Island ever since."

Charles opens a manila folder lying on a nearby table and pulls out a faded photograph. "I've explained to you who we are, but the question is, Jack: _who are you?_" He hands the photograph to Jack, who quickly recognizes it's a picture of his father, Christian Shepherd, along with a young girl on his lap he's never seen before.

"Theresa must have said something to you about your younger sister." Charles opens the manila folder again and pulls out a plane ticket. "It's 2004; which means you will be with your Island friends very soon." Jack looks over the ticket; it's purple with the Oceanic Logo emblazoned across the top. Flight 815. "I'll make sure the Doctors in the Initiative take great care of Theresa. Go now, Jack; you must find your father and sister in Sydney."

* * *

><p>2004, On the Island, Inside the Cabin<p>

Claire settles comfortably in a squeaky rocking chair, while the man resembling Christian Shepherd takes a seat next to the window. She misses her baby, and pictures him in her arms as she rocks back and forth. "Where is my baby?" she asks.

"He's wherever he needs to be in order to change events leading to your friends being saved," the man answers.

Claire pauses from rocking. "He's no longer here, is he?"

"Trust me." He relaxes by leaning back and crossing his right leg, then places his hands over his knee. "The only sacrifice required is not seeing your child until all of your friends return."

She leans back anxiously in her chair, tightening her grip on the armrests. "When they do return, how will I find him?"

The man smiles contently, confident his plan will work. "One of your friends is uniquely _chosen to lead_ the survivors in an effort to save the Island," he explains. "That person will also lead you back to your child."

Claire pauses to think; her first choice for leader would be Jack. "Who is it?" she asks.

He places a finger to his lips and grins. "Shhhh. He's here, now."

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching and a pocket lighter flickering can be heard just outside the front door. The handle turns and the door slowly creaks open. John Locke enters the cabin and gently waves a lantern to see what's in front of him. He sees the shadowy figure of the man sitting next to the window.

"Are you Jacob?" asks Locke.

"No," he answers. "But I can speak on his behalf."

Locke lifts the lantern higher and approaches cautiously. "Well, who are you?"

The man leans forward, his face now fully visible in the light. "I'm Christian," he answers.

Locke places the lantern on the table and waits momentarily for instruction. He figures if Christian can speak for Jacob, maybe he can answer a few other questions. "Do you know why I'm here?" he asks.

"Ya, sure," he answers. "Do you?"

Locke gathers his thoughts, and shares his conviction he felt was right ever since he crashed on the Island. "I'm here, because I was chosen to be."

The man grins in response. "That's absolutely right."

Claire's rocking chair suddenly creaks. Locke is startled, and raises the lantern to see who else is in the room. He's dumbfounded as he quickly recognizes the blonde hair and blue eyes. "Claire?" he calls out.

"Hi John," she says.

Locke's mind races; he knows Claire went missing several days ago, and figures it was a trap. And now, what he thought would be a conversation with Jacob in the cabin might be a similar trap set for him. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't worry. I'm fine," she answers with a smug grin. "I'm with him."

"Where's the baby?" he asks, his voice panicky.

Christian leans forward and interrupts. "The baby's where he's supposed to be, and that's not here. It's probably best that you don't tell anyone that you saw her."

Locke's suspicion grows at the mention of baby Aaron missing. "Why? Why is she"

"We don't have time for this," Christian interrupts again. "The people from the boat are already on their way back, and once they get here, all of these questions won't matter one bit. So why don't you ask the one question that does matter?"

Locke gathers his thoughts and composure once again. Out of all the concerns on his heart, there's clearly one that matters the most. "How do I save the island?

* * *

><p>The Island, 1977, Inside the Hydra<p>

The group of Jack, Sawyer, Kate, Jin, and Hurley gather around Claire who is lying unconscious in a makeshift hospital bed. At first glance she's barely recognizable. Her hair is matted. Her complexion is no longer soft; her face is tanned and covered in dirt. Her biceps and forearms are toned. She's the new Claire; the hardened, survivor Claire.

"Whoa. No longer the little Misses all of us been used to," Sawyer quips, already busy thinking of new nicknames.

Kate leans over and squeezes her calloused hand. "Claire," she whispers, hoping to wake her. "How did you get here?" she asks, again with no response.

"She's here, because we left her here," Jack responds. The burden of leaving her behind still weighs heavy on his heart.

Jin looks to Sawyer, shrugging his shoulders. "I searched Island. Searched all sectors. Nobody found," he says, his English still imperfect.

Sawyer steps forward to get a closer look; she hardly resembles the Claire he last saw sleeping next to the campfire. He remembers everything about that night. They made camp for the night in the jungle, after leaving the Dharma barracks to get to the beach rescue. When he and Miles awoke in the morning, she was nowhere to be found.

"It's true, Doc. We left her behind," he moans. "But we sure as hell didn't leave her here, in 1977."

Suddenly, Claire's breathing grows louder and her eyelids flutter.

"Claire, can you hear me?" asks Kate, squeezing her hand again.

Claire's eyes open fully. Her lips are dry and cracked, but she manages to smile. "It worked," she whispers.

Kate leans forward and brushes Claire's hair back with her fingers. "What worked, sweetie?"

Claire's pupils adjust and her eyes refocus. She glances to each person standing around her. "Where is John Locke?"


	22. It Worked

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 22-  
><strong>**It Worked  
><strong>

Claire's lips are dry and cracked, but she manages to smile. "It worked," she whispers.

_It worked._

Jack ponders Claire's expression; in the midst of Island chaos, it seems as though some kind of masterful plan is at work. Jack has finally learned to let go, and to lead. Three years ago, he was so desperate to get everyone off the Island that people died in the process. At the time, he wasn't ready to believe that they were brought there for a purpose.

_It worked._

After leaving the Island, each of them had difficulty living lives that were truly free. Jack and Kate tried finding fulfillment by pretending to be parents. Hurley's increased delusions sent him back to the mental institution. The underlying problem was they were living a lie which wore on their conscious, and the only remedy was to go back.

_We have to go back Kate!_

Jack came back to find his sister. Kate; to find Aaron's mother. Hurley; he couldn't stand lying to people about the Island any longer. Besides, the Island was the only place he could go where he wasn't considered crazy.

_It worked._

It's been three years, and the six remaining Oceanic survivors are finally reunited. Jack has found the sister he came back for. Although, he doesn't realize Claire never needed to be rescued; she _chose_ to stay behind. It was the man who left the Island to bring all of them back that needed the most help. Jack neglected what was most important by refusing to believe him, which discouraged John Locke to a point where he lost all hope.

_I wish you had believed me._

Locke's final words haunt the depths of Jack's soul. They follow him closely, nagging him like an accusing street preacher. The burden of regret could not be shaken until he came back. Jack's first step in believing was to follow the strict instructions of Eloise Hawking, which was; in order to recreate the conditions of the original Oceanic flight, he would have to give something of his father's to John Locke by placing it in his coffin.

_Oh, stop thinking how ridiculous it is and start asking yourself whether or not you believe it's going to work. That's why it's called a leap of faith, Jack! (Eloise Hawking S5Ep6)  
><em>

Kate leans forward and brushes Claire's hair back with her fingers. "What worked, sweetie?"

Claire locks eyes with Jack. "Where is John Locke?"

She sits up to stretch; her arm muscles bulge as she flexes her shoulders. Her figure is solid and lean. The once frail and dependent girl is barely recognizable; the pounds of pregnancy melted away after years of lone Island survival.

The unexpected question throws Jack off guard. His throat tightens as he struggles to answer. "Locke's dead," he says, his tone apologetic. "The police found his body in a Los Angeles hotel."

Hurley nudges Jack on the shoulder. "Actually dude, I know he like really died, but Jin and I found him, like, actually breathing man. He's down the hall." Hurley darts eyes with Kate and Sawyer to watch their reactions of suspicion.

Sawyer crosses his arms and grunts. "You seein' ghosts again, Hugo?"

"Shutup dude."

Jack steps forward to defend him. "He couldn't be a ghost, Sawyer. Jin saw him too."

Jin nods enthusiastically. "Come. I show you."

"I don't believe this," Kate remarks. Finding Claire was a miracle she could believe in; seeing somebody come back from the dead is something entirely different. She squints her eyes in disbelief and stands next to Sawyer to join the team of doubters. "Jack. Think about it. Dead or alive, how could Locke even be on the Island? His body is still in a coffin back in Los Angeles."

"No Kate, it's not." Jack runs his fingers through the hair on the back of his head. He knows what he did is going to sound crazy. "Locke said all of us had to come back, including him."

Kate raises her eyebrows.

"I put his coffin on the plane."


	23. Resurrection

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 23-  
><strong>**Resurrection**

2004, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor

Jack walks with Eloise down the brick lined corridor leading to the basement floor elevator. After his confrontation with Charles Widmore, he's finally accepted that Theresa's story of a mysterious Island in 1977 isn't a delusion caused by a brain tumor. He's leaving to follow her latest instruction to search for his sister and father in Sydney.

The elevator chimes and its doors slide open. Jack and Eloise squeeze into the confined space hardly comfortable for two people. Jack looks up as they begin their ascent; the ceiling is missing several panels, allowing a clear view straight up the shaft. There's an ambient glow from the ground floor far above. Jack sighs; he knows it's going to be a long ride.

"A little tight in here," he says, doing his best to break the ice.

The temperature in the elevator remains chilly. "My Dear, it was even tighter when you were pointing a gun to my head," she snaps with a sharp British accent.

Jack turns to face her. Her silver hair is elegantly styled; her posture perfectly proper. Her dress and high heels fit for church service. He feels remorse for holding a gun to a woman that reminds him of his grandmother.

Jack looks back up the shaft; the distance to the top still so far away. "But didn't you already know the gun wouldn't go off?" he asks.

"Not exactly." She turns her head slightly; her eyes meet Jack with a cold stare. "Charles and I have differing philosophies concerning destiny."

Jack looks back up. The elevator cables squeak as they thread through the system of pulleys. His hands break into a cold sweat as the floor sways and vibrates. It's a bumpier ride compared to his initial ride down.

Eloise is unfazed by the uncomfortable riding conditions and continues the conversation. "I shot and killed my only son in 1977," she confesses. "I've devoted my entire life to stopping that bullet from firing."

The elevator comes to a complete stop; a safety mechanism engages, catching the cables before the elevator has a chance to freefall. Jack instinctively wedges himself into the corner and holds tightly to the metal railing. The sound of metal under stress echoes eerily throughout the shaft. The lights flicker then shut off completely.

Eloise remains calm as if the experience is routine. Apparently the basement power is prone to interruptions. She feels beneath the railing and finds a box of candles and matches. "It's unlikely I can change the past," she says, as she strikes a match and lights a candle. "But there is another way to save my son."

Jack takes a deep breath and relaxes while staring into the flame. "How so?" he asks.

She raises the candle beneath her chin; the flickering flame illuminates her face. "Do you believe in the resurrection, Jack?"

His expression falls blank. The last time he heard that particular word was at a church service he was dragged to years ago. "Honestly, I'm not much of a churchgoer." He tightens his fingers to the back of his neck. These last several weeks have really challenged Jack's logical scientific view of the world. "I'm still trying to figure out how my gun didn't fire."

"Don't try to understand it, Jack. Just _believe_."

The overhead lighting suddenly flickers back on. The cables tighten as the lift motor spins once again, slowly pulling the elevator upward.

Eloise blows out the candle and tucks it back in the box it came from. "There are other worlds that exist which are reflections of our own."

"Worlds that are reflections," he repeats, not to agree but to gesture he's listening. He suspends his disbelief for the sake of argument. "So how does another world bring somebody back to life?"

"Because there is hope that somebody who dies in this world is living in another."

Jack is having a hard time stomaching theology and quickly defends the morality he identifies with. "I'm a surgeon. It's my job to save people from dying."

Eloise smirks. "And it's my job to guide people to where they must go." She reaches for Jack's hand and gives him a firm handshake. "My name is Mrs. Hawking."

Suddenly, the elevator chimes and its doors slide open. The philosophical discussion made the trip to the ground floor seem shorter than it was. Jack steps out, while Eloise unexpectedly stays behind. "Are you going back down?" he asks looking perplexed.

She nods and gives him one last instruction before pressing the basement button. "Please, Jack; you and your friends are our only hope. If you truly want to save lives, including your own; you need to _save the Island_."

Jack turns to walks away, more confused than when he first arrived.

"Your father says hello," she says as the elevator closes.

* * *

><p>1977, On the Island.<p>

Jack runs his fingers through the hair on the back of his head. He knows what he did is going to sound crazy. "Locke said all of us had to come back."

Kate raises her eyebrows.

"I put his coffin on the plane."

"You what?"

Jack swallows, thinking of another more rational way of saying what he just said; there's no way around it. "Locke's body isn't in L.A. because I put his coffin on the plane."

Claire slides out from the hospital bed and tightens her shoe laces. "Take me to the plane, right now," she demands.

"It's not here, Claire," Kate explains, shaking her head. "It's 1977. Somehow all of us moved back in time."

"I know. The man in the cabin told me."

Suddenly, the sound of heavy breathing approaches the doorway. The footsteps grow louder; much louder than shoes with rubber soles; more like the hardened bottoms of typical men's leather dress shoes.

Kate holds her breath and moves closer to Jack. The footsteps pause, but the heavy breathing continues. A shadow crosses the threshold of the door.

Sawyer clears the bangs from his eyes and clenches his fist. "Show yourself! Who the hell's out there?" he yells.

John Locke steps into view with an unconscious woman draped over his shoulder. Sweat beads down his face and drenches his shirt. The moment reminds Jack of when Locke returned to beach camp with a boar over his shoulder; ironically, he was believed to be dead at that time too.

"Welcome back, dude," says Hurley.

Locke brushes the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "Hello," he says, still short of breath from carrying the woman. She has blonde hair, and her nose is bleeding; Jack immediately recognizes her as the woman in the hazmat suit.

Locke nods and stares to Jack. "I believe I found the person you were looking for."


	24. A Change in Plans

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 24-  
><strong>**A Change in Plans  
><strong>

"I believe I found the person you were looking for."

He carries her in like a soldier carrying the wounded, holding her steady by grasping her calves to his chest. Her head sways freely; her arms dangle like lifeless limbs. Her wavy hair flows freely down his back. Jack races to action like an ER physician; his concern for her diminishes the shock of seeing John Locke alive. He offers his shoulder to help carry her to the hospital bed Claire came out of.

"I found her face down in the hall," he says breathless and relieved to finally place her down. "Good to see you, Jack," he says with a pause to catch his breath.

Jack grabs a stethoscope off a nearby shelf and leans over the bed. Her pulse is weak and her breathing shallow. "Did she tell you anything?" he asks as he moves the stethoscope around her chest.

Locke nods while taking several more breaths. "She told me _everything_, Jack." He turns to the rest of the group; his mere presence of being alive already has their attention. He greets each of them by name. "Hello, Jin. Kate. Hugo."

Sawyer uncrosses his arms and loses the look of suspicion. "Thought you'd never come back after fallin' down that well."

Locke grins. "Hello, James."

It takes a moment for Locke to recognize Claire; he's taken back by her rugged appearance. "Claire?" He raises his eye brows; a washboard of wrinkles covers his bald forehead. "What happened to you?"

"Hello, John." Her expression remains cold and her voice lacks her familiar gentleness. "What did she say to you?"

Jack takes the stethoscope out of his ears and turns to the group. "She said we're here to save the Island."

"She's exactly right Jack, just like I have been right this entire time," says Locke, pointing his finger upward for emphasis. He takes a moment to soak in the satisfaction that everyone, including Jack, has finally come around to believing him. "We're the only ones left alive; which means, we're the only ones in the position to save the Island. She knew we would survive. She made sure we were brought here by using our numbers for identification." Locke holds up his wrist and shows everyone his patient ID bracelet. "All of us were patients being taken care of by the Dharma Initiative; each of us assigned a numeric ID. Mine is 4."

Hurley looks to his bracelet "I'm 8."

Sawyer reads his. "15."

Hurley's expression goes from excited to terrified. "Dude, the numbers. We're cursed man!"

Kate reads hers. "51."

"51?" Hurley's expression turns perplexed. "Maybe we're not cursed."

Jack looks to his. "23."

Jin reads his. "42."

Claire looks to hers. "B612."

Hurley's confusion returns. "B612? What's that? Some kind of super vitamin?"

"4-8-15-16-23-42; we're missing a number. This could mean there was _a change in plans_," says Locke. "Kate, Claire; you two are not even on the list." He looks to Theresa, hoping she awakens with answers to clarify.

"What list?" asks Kate. The mention of a list brings back memories of the Other's kidnappings.

Locke does a quick head count of the group and realizes someone is missing. "Sayid; he must be number 16. Where is he?"

Hurley and Jin glance to one another. "He's gone man," responds Hurley, his voice cracking. "Jin and I found him down the hall."

Locke wipes another layer of sweat from his brow. He looks back and sees Jack is still nursing Theresa, who's still unconscious. Once again, it's up to Locke to search for answers.

"Hugo," he says, placing a hand on Hurley's shoulder. "_Take me to Sayid_."

* * *

><p>2004 Ann Arbor, Michigan<p>

"Good day, Dr. Shepherd," says the hotel clerk.

Jack finishes checking out of his room and carries his suitcase through the hotel lobby. His trip to Michigan was a much shorter stay than anticipated. He came to rescue Theresa, but leaves convinced her story is true. After letting go, he's now determined to find his sister and runaway father in Sydney.

His return flight to Los Angeles leaves soon; he steps outside the lobby to wait for his cab. A bright red Audi sport coupe suddenly revs its engine and brightens its headlights. It streaks across the parking lot and pulls next to Jack; the driver side window rolls down.

"Hello, Jack," says the driver, her bright red hair matching the sporty paint job of her car. She shifts into neutral and revs the engine again. "Do you remember who I am?" she asks, speaking loudly over the engine rumblings. Her demeanor seems anxious; she fidgets the shifter in and out of gear.

Jack nods and wonders why he's being followed. "You were the Doctor in the basement."

"I'm not a Doctor," she says shaking her head. "My name is Charlotte Lewis, and I'm actually an _Anthropologist_."

Jack senses something wrong. He peaks inside and sees an unconscious Daniel Faraday slumped over in the back seat. "What the hell is going on?"

"A change in plans," she replies, reaching across the seat to open the passenger door. "Twenty seven years ago, this man did everything he could to save my life. And now_, I must save his!_"


	25. Dead Man Talking

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 25-  
><strong>**Dead Man Talking**

Locke looks to Hurley and gestures his arm forward. "Lead the way, Hugo."

Hurley timidly steps outside the room and squeamishly meanders around dead bodies on the floor. They fade slowly into the darkness of the hallway leading to Sayid's body.

Claire watches them from the door, then suddenly leaves to follow.

"Claire! Where are you going?" Kate yells, running out the door after her.

Sawyer raises an eyebrow and looks to Jack. "Kind of curious myself to what a dead man's gonna say to another dead man," he says, also heading out the door. "Take care of the girl, Doc. I'll be back here soon enough."

Kate catches up to Claire and grabs her by the shoulder to slow down her pace. "Hey, wait for me; there's something I need to tell you."

Claire trudges forward and stays focused on Locke ahead of her. "I already know, Kate."

"Know what?"

Claire pauses in step and looks back with a piercing stare. "I know that for the past three years you pretended to be Aaron's mum." Her expression lacks the warmth she once had as a mother. She's thankless; bitter, perhaps. "While you were raising him, I was here and all alone."

Kate's caught off guard by her quick rant. "I'm sorry," she says. Her throat tightens as the shame of living a lie revisits the back of her mind. "Aaron's safe, Claire. He's with your mother in Sydney," she assures her.

Claire shakes her head and keeps walking. "No, he's not. He's here, on the Island again. Locke will lead me to him."

"Oh, O.K. You'll see him soon then," says Kate, responding cautiously and pretending to go along with it. Her last remark gives Kate a clear impression that her time alone on the Island has made her delusional.

They keep walking, and soon catch up to Locke. He's stooped over a body after spying a pair of leather hiking boots. "Hello, Claire, Kate," he says while sliding the boots off the stiffened corpse. "I don't think he'll be needing these anymore." He loosens and kicks off the uncomfortable dress shoes he was wearing. "And I certainly won't be needing those. I must have been wearing them for my funeral."

Claire looks down at the dress shoes and back to Locke. "Did you really die, John?"

Locke's memories are still vague to what happened after leaving the Island. He shrugs his shoulders while tightening the laces to his new boots. "I remember moving the Island then seeing a bright light. Afterward, I was in a place where I saw people I knew had already died. Then I woke up back here." Locke stands while proudly admiring his new pair of shoes, perfect for hiking the Island jungle. "My conclusion is; none of us can die until we finish what we came here for."

"Oh ya?" a voice echoes from behind them. The sound of footsteps grows louder as Sawyer approaches from the darkness. His jaw clenches and loosens from chewing a toothpick. "Why don't you ask Sayid what he thinks about that?"

"James." Locke smirks, and is glad to see Sawyer has decided to join the group. "That's exactly what I plan to do."

Hurley peaks in the next room and flips on the light switch. "Dude, I think we're here." He points to a bed with a sheet covering a dead body. They each enter and congregate around the bed. Sayid's right arm hangs loosely over the side. Blood from his abdominal bandages seeps through the sheet. His face is covered, but his dark curly hair protrudes from the top.

Kate cringes as Locke pulls the sheet back. The color of life has drained from Sayid's face. His eyelids are shut; he looks peaceful, but has obviously been expired for days. Locke sighs a look of disappointment and gently places the sheet back over. "I'm sorry each of you had to see that."

Sawyer grunts and pulls the toothpick from his mouth. "So now that all of us know Moamar's gone to be with Allah, what's your grand plan now, Lockee?"

Locke massages his bottom lip while thinking of his next move. He despises his leadership being questioned, but remains calm and collected. His usual preference is one or two recruits at a time; but the days of Boone and Walt are over. He'll have to win everyone's trust in the long run.

He sees an empty backpack on the ground, and begins filling it with supplies from shelves in the room. "James; the plan is the same as it's always been." He slides the straps to the top of each shoulder then tightens the buckles to secure it to his back. "In case you haven't noticed, each dead body out in the hallway has blood in the nostrils, which is a phenomenon we have seen here before. The last time I fixed it, I had to go straight to the source."

Sawyer flips his bangs back to clear his eyes. "The Well," he says, placing the pick back in his mouth. He and Locke are the only ones in the room to experience the flashes, the nosebleeds, and the wild cross-Island adventure in finding it. "That Well you went down was at the Orchid. The source this time is the Swan."

"Then there must be another Well," answers Locke. "And this time, all of us must go. Saving the Island is the reason I brought everyone back. Now, who here is willing to go?" he pleads.

Sawyer slowly raises his hand to volunteer. He glances to Kate to watch her reaction. "Juliet's gone. I've got nothin' else to live for."

Locke smirks. "James, if you follow me, you'll get to see Juliet again; I promise."

Claire raises her hand. "Will you bring me to Aaron?"

Locke nods. "Claire, if you follow me, you will have your baby back. I promise."

Kate raises her hand. "I'm coming."

Hurley raises his. "I'm in dude."

Locke uses his thumbs to pull on his backpack straps like a farmer wearing suspenders. "Alright; looks like we all have a journey ahead of us."

They head for the door, but Locke holds out his hand to keep them from leaving. "Not so fast," he says. "I said, _all of us_ must go." He points back to Sayid. "_We need to bring him too_."


	26. First Arrival

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 26-  
><strong>**First Arrival  
><strong>

2004  
>University of Michigan, Ann Arbor<br>Harlan Hatcher Library

The glass door triggers open as Jack steps to the rubber padded entrance. He's dressed in tshirt, jeans, and a backpack casually hanging from one shoulder; blending into the atmosphere of students visiting campus for late night study.

He meanders to the quiet rear corner of the library and finds the section of books for Anthropology. He checks his watch then pulls a random book from the shelf to pass the time. A woman from the next aisle peaks through the gaps between the books and tries to get his attention.

"Psssss," she sounds, breaking the library silence. "Over here," she whispers.

He places the book back and walks to the next aisle to meet her. "Hey," he whispers back. She's wearing a baseball cap to conceal her red hair and carries a backpack like Jack's.

"How does it feel being a college student again?" she whispers, tilting her hat to show the Michigan logo.

Jack pinches and pulls the stylish design on his tshirt. "Actually, this shirt looks more like I'm in high school." He looks over her head to see if anyone else is with her. "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"The guy you kidnapped in the back of your car that saved your life."

She places her finger to her lips. "Shhhh. I wasn't kidnapping him," she whispers softly. "Follow me, Jack." They walk together into the elevator; she holds down the stop button so they can continue their conversation. "His name is Daniel Faraday; and if he ever stepped foot on that Island, he would surely die; so I took him to save his life. He's somewhere safe; at least for now."

Jack twitches his brow. "And how did he save _your_ life?"

"Twenty seven years ago, he came to me while I was playing on a swing set. He warned me never to come back to the Island or else I would die a horrific death."

Jack chuckles beneath his breath. "That's a pretty heavy conversation for two kids on a playground."

"Yes, it certainly was," Charlotte snickers. "Except, I was the kid in the playground; he was the same age he is _right now_."

"Same age?" Jack nods while rubbing the back of his neck. "But how is that possible?"

Charlotte smiles and holds up a key engraved with a Dharma symbol. "I'll show you." She inserts the key into a slot next to the button panel and twists; a Dharma logo button lights up on the panel, and the elevator starts to ascend. "The Dharma Initiative stores its most secretive documents on the top floor of this library."

The elevator doors retract as they reach the top floor. It's pitch dark; Charlotte takes back her Dharma key and flips a light switch near the elevator. The ceiling is low and the floor is uncarpeted. The structural beams and electrical wiring above them is uncovered to maximize ceiling space. Dozens of rows of steel cabinets store thousands of documents deemed important to the Dharma Initiative.

Charlotte leads Jack to a desk against the wall stacked high with ancient books and other documents. "Welcome to my office," she says, gesturing her hands outward. Jack tries to pick up one of the dusty books, but Charlotte holds him back. "Please, don't touch. That book is over a thousand years old." She opens the desk drawer and hand him a pair of latex gloves. "Now you can touch."

Jack slips the gloves on and carefully thumbs through the pages. The ancient writing is incomprehensible to anyone not an expert in languages. "It's Aramaic; third century Persian Empire," she explains.

Jack turns the page and sees an ancient schematic drawing of a large wheel connected to a system of mirrors and pulleys. "Kind of looks like a donkey wheel," he says.

"It's a mechanism that moves the Island," explains Charlotte. She fits on a pair of gloves and turns the page to a detailed terrain map. "Whenever the Island is moved, it shifts time and opens a portal off the Island."

Jack studies the map and recognizes the shore of water on the northern portion. "That's the Mediterranean," he says, tapping the shoreline with his finger.

Charlotte nods to congratulate his quick recognition. "Very good, Jack." She points to the region where the map designates the portal location. "And that's Tunisia, where the first exit point is located."

Jack also recognizes the symbol signifying the exit point; it looks like a cross but with looped top. "And that's an Egyptian Ankh."

"You are correct," remarks Charlotte, fully impressed with Jack's understanding. "Do you know what the Ankh represents?" she asks, quizzing him further.

He shrugs his shoulders and gives the first answer that comes to mind. "Heaven, or Hell, maybe?"

"Very close," she responds, encouraging his effort. "Loosely translated; it means reincarnation. _Living after death_." She reaches in her pocket and hands Jack a small wooden Ankh. "Here; it's yours to keep."

Jack smiles and admires the tiny wooden carving in the palm of his hand. "Thanks."

"I have one too." She adjusts the collar of her shirt, and shows an Ankh hanging from her necklace. "If you ever make it to the Island, perhaps you will witness what this symbol represents."

* * *

><p>The Hydra, 1977<p>

Locke holds out his hand to keep the group from leaving. "Not so fast," he says. "I said, _all of us_ must go." He points back to Sayid. "_We'll need to bring him too_."

Hurley freezes in stance and looks to the group. "Uh, what did you just say dude?"

"You heard me Hugo." Locke walks to the bed and situates himself to carry the body. "I'll carry him. But I'll need somebody to help me place him over my shoulder." Locke reaches down to Sayid's hand which loosely hangs over the bed. It's cold and as stiff as wood.

Suddenly, the skin becomes warm; then hot. A feeling like static electricity transfers from Locke's hand. "What was that?" asks Locke.

"What was what?" grunts Sawyer.

A high pitch sound steadily grows and echoes off the walls. "That," says Locke.

Kate's eyes widen as she looks to Sawyer to see his reaction. "Do you hear that?"

"Ya," grunts Sawyer, clenching the toothpick between his molars.

A yellow glow illuminates beneath the sheet over Sayid, brightening to the point where they shield their eyes. The light and sound suddenly stops. Locke continues to hold Sayid's hand; it suddenly tightens it grip, like he's responding to a handshake. Locke looks up and sees Sayid's eyes are wide open.

He sits up in bed and throws the bloodied sheet to the side. His wounds are completely healed and his clothes are fresh. "Where am I?"

Locke smiles and nods his head. "Tell me first, Sayid; where _were_ you?"

Sayid looks around to the group then narrows his stare at Locke in accusatory fashion. "I was sitting next to you on the plane."


	27. Escape to Sydney

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 27-  
><strong>**Escape to Sydney**

2004  
>University of Michigan, Ann Arbor<br>Harlan Hatcher Library

Jack admires the hand carved Ankh one last time before placing it inside his jean pocket. He scans the pile of books on Charlotte's desk; the smell of dust and degrading paper create an aroma similar to fresh cardboard. A light green hardcover catches his eye, mostly because the bolded text on the front cover isn't foreign:

_U.S. Army Classified.  
>Unspecified Pacific Island Territory.<br>1950-current._

He carefully opens the cover; it's an atlas collection of high altitude aerial photographs. The sections are mostly barren ocean with slivers of tiny green Pacific island outcrops. "After the second World War, the U.S. Army continued flying reconnaissance photos of the South Pacific." Charlotte points to an isolated green speck in one photo. She turns the page to an identical photo taken several years later; the speck is no longer there. "As you can see, the Island disappeared in 1954."

Jack glances back and forth between photos to override his skepticism. Charlotte leans in until he looks back at her; she winks an eye and twitches her red freckled nose. "Of course, we both know the Island didn't vanish into thin air." She points back to the ancient Persian schematic of the donkey wheel. "Which means; somebody must have moved it."

Jack squints to examine the tiny speckled image of the Island. "Were people on it when it moved?"

She nods and reaches for a photo album beneath her desk. "Several hundred native hostiles, a platoon of U.S. soldiers, and," she pauses as she flips through the album. "And a small group of imprisoned time travelers," she says, pointing to a faded photograph of prisoners taken inside a military tent.

Jack is dumbfounded as he instantly recognizes Daniel and Charlotte with their hands rope tied behind their backs. "This is what you are trying to prevent, isn't it? You and Daniel going to the Island and dying in the past?"

"Exactly," she affirms with a nod. "The plan was flawed from the beginning. Daniel's role should only be finding the Island, _not_ going there." She turns the pages of the album to a picture of an atomic bomb suspended inside a wooden tower. "He warned the people on the Island to seal and bury this bomb. You don't have to be a Physicist to be the messenger. Dharma can send somebody else back in time to warn them."

Jack thumbs through the photos, and notices a short Hispanic man with perfectly trimmed hair, and eyelashes so dark it looks as if he's wearing eyeliner. "This guy is in almost all the photos," he says, pointing to the mysterious man.

"Richard Alpert," answers Charlotte. She opens a desk drawer and shows Jack a recent photo of him. "He came to the Dharma Initiative Christmas party several years ago."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "He looks exactly the same."

She giggles at his reaction. "Which either means he's traveled through time, or he's really old and doesn't age."

Jack continues to flip through the photos then stops abruptly after something peculiar catches his eye. His hands tremble as the veins in his neck noticeably throb.

Charlotte looks to the photo he's mesmerized by and sees it's simply another picture of Richard Alpert. "What's wrong?" she asks.

Jack points to a man standing next to Richard. "That man speaking with Richard is_ my father_."

"What?" Charlotte reacts in denial. "Are you sure?"

Jack suddenly notices a red laser dot crawling up Charlotte's arm then centering on her forehead. He reacts instinctively by tackling her to the floor. "Get down!" A loud crack echoes across the room as a window shatters from the sniper's bullet. Explosions of shredded paper fill the air as several more shots fire. They crawl together behind a steel cabinet for safety.

Jack feels her clothing and shoulder to check for bullet wounds. "Are you OK?"

She nods while catching her breath. "You are now the second person who has saved my life." She eyes the switch on the wall and sprints toward it. She darkens the lights, revealing several sniper lasers scanning from the direction of the broken window.

She crawls back to the cabinet and hands Jack a journal. "These are my anthropological notes about the Island. They might come in handy." She points to an exit sign opposite the elevator. "Take the stairwell; they come out on the south side of the library."

Jack shakes his head and answers firmly. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"They don't want you, Jack. They want me. I can take care of myself. There are three other hidden exits to this floor."

Jack looks to the stairwell door and tucks the journal in the back of his jeans.

"Go now, Jack. Find your father in Sydney. Maybe he has the answers you're looking for."


	28. My Sister in Sydney

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 28-  
>My Sister in Sydney<br>**

Jack fumbles the wooden Ankh between his fingers while exhaling a nervous sigh. He peers from the back seat of the cab, watching the rows of suburban Sydney homes pass by his view. It's like the middle class suburbia he's used to seeing in L.A., except the cars drive on the left side, and the people seem much friendlier down under. It's a world identical to his own, but upside down and reversed. Left is right, right is left; like a reflection in a mirror. A mirrored world where his father was with a different woman, and had a daughter instead of a son. A world kept hidden from him, until now.

The driver pulls the cab to the curb next to the driveway. "Here we are, mate." Jack steps out the door then slips several bills from his wallet through the open window. "Keep the change," says Jack.

"Aye, thank you mate."

Jack walks up the driveway then climbs the steps to the front door. He checks his pocket to make sure he has his father's photo then knocks on the door. A blonde haired blue eyed woman opens it just wide enough to see.

"Yes, can I help you?" Her Aussie accent is thick and her tone soft.

Jack freezes at the moment of eye contact. He looks down and shuffles his feet to help him speak. "Yes. Yes, you can." He looks again into her beautiful blue eyes.

She unlatches the top chain and peaks her head and shoulder through the gap. He glances quickly at her pregnant belly then pretends he doesn't notice. "Claire Littleton?" he asks.

"Yes," she says, cracking the door wider. "Do I know you?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

"No. Well, maybe you know about me." He reaches into his pocket and shows her the photo of Christian. "Do you know this man?"

She nods slowly, her expression disapproving. "He's my father, who I hardly know at all." She looks back at Jack and waits for his explanation.

Jack tucks the picture away and keeps his hands in his pockets. "He's my father too."

"Oh," she responds while forming the obvious conclusion. The moment turns awkward. She opens the door all the way and pushes the screen door forward; Jack glances down again and this time gets the full view of her pregnant belly. She anxiously tucks her hair behind her ears and swallows. "So, why are you here, _now_?"

* * *

><p>Claire turns the stove top off as the kettle starts to boil. She pours the steaming water into Jack's cup; he dips the tea bag and watches the water darken. "Thank you," he says while adjusting his chair back from the kitchen table. He pulls it far enough to lean and cross one leg on top of the other. He pulls his father's photo out of his pocket to make sure it doesn't wrinkle then places it on the table.<p>

Claire looks down at the photo then takes a sip of her tea. "I'm sure you've had a difficult week."

"Ya. And now I have the funeral to think about." He places his cup on the kitchen table to let it cool. "The police told me they found his body in an alley. King's Cross. He basically drank himself to death." He places a finger on the photo of Christian and pushes it toward Claire. "So when's the last time you saw him?"

"Six, maybe seven months ago. He came to visit my Mum in the hospital. I didn't know I was pregnant so unfortunately he never knew," she says looking down and petting her stomach. "My Mum is still in a coma. He was paying her medical bills."

Jack blows on his tea before taking a sip. "Do you have any other family?" Before placing his lips to his tea cup, he quickly pulls back and corrects himself. "I mean, besides me?"

Claire smiles in reaction. "Thank you, Jack. You're very kind." She points across the room to a small family photo on the wall. "Besides Mum, I only have my Aunt. And the father of my baby is no longer in the picture."

Jack scoots his chair toward her and places his hand over hers. "I live in Los Angeles. You're welcome to come stay with me anytime you'd like."

Claire raises her eyebrows. "Actually, the parents adopting my baby live in Los Angeles. I'm flying there in a couple days to meet them for the first time."

Jack places his cup down after taking a quick sip. "Really? I'm flying back in couple days. What airline are you flying?"

"Oceanic, I believe."

Jack is awestruck by the coincidence. "Oceanic 815," he says. "Looks like we'll be together all the way to L-A-X."


	29. Captain Lapidus

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 29-  
>Captain Lapidus<br>**

_Sydney Australia_  
><em>2004<em>

Inside a smoke filled bar in downtown Sydney, a husky bearded man with bushy grey eyebrows tilts his head back and finishes off his fifth glass of whiskey. He contemplates having a sixth, although he'll need a cab back to the hotel if he keeps up the binge.

The bartender cleans the spills on the beer tap while eyeing him in the mirror. He's suspicious, and hopes he's not some homeless bum off the streets that doesn't have the money to pay the tab.

The bearded man taps the glass on the bar top then slides it forward. "Bring me another," he requests nonchalantly.

The bartender rolls his eyes and takes the glass. "One more and you'll need to pay up."

"My friend has had enough for tonight," calls a voice from a dark corner of the bar. He steps out of the shadows and approaches the bar; he's a tall thin black man, nicely dressed with suit and tie, and looking very out of place for a downtown pub. "I will cover his tab," he says, placing a stack of cash on the bar.

The bearded man turns his stool and watches the bartender count the cash. He's upset that his night out drinking is interrupted but also thankful a stranger covered the bill. He looks to the suited man and gives him a one eyed piercing stare. "You're not from around here, are you?" he asks with a raspy voice.

"Oh, I've been around," the suited man replies, taking a seat next to him at the bar. "I've been all over the world and I've come all the way here just for you, Mr. Lapidus." He pronounces each word with short heavily emphasized syllables. His jaw movement while speaking flexes the muscles along his temples. The lighting from the bar reflects off his shiny shaven head.

Lapidus exchanges a quizzical look with the bartender then looks back to the suited man. "And what is it that I can do for you, Mister?"

"Abaddon. Matthew Abaddon," he says, introducing himself with intense eye contact absent of any kind of friendly bar handshake. "And right now, it's what I can do for you. I can take you back to your hotel so you can rest and sober up for your flight tomorrow."

Lapidus rotates his stool to face him, cocking one eyebrow up and closing the other. "You one of the guys from corporate checking on me?

"No." Abaddon doesn't flinch from his perfectly robotic demeanor. "I'm someone that gets people where they need to go. And you, Captain Lapidus, must fly Oceanic 815 tomorrow morning."

"Oh ya, I almost forgot; 8-1-5," replies Lapidus, with a facetious smirk. "Gimmee a break, would you? I've got 10 hours before I hit the runway. I figured I'd have a night out before I autopilot across the Pacific."

Abaddon stands up from the bar stool and straightens his tie. "Your night here is finished. Trust me; you will need all the rest you can get tonight."

"You want to tell me why you're so interested in flight 815?"

Abaddon finally reveals a sliver of emotion with a subtle smirk. "Because you're taking a special group of passengers to a unique destination. And that destination is_ not Los Angeles_."

* * *

><p><strong>Ah sorry this was so short, I needed to give one of my all time favorite Lost characters Matthew Abaddon a special showing! -bobt<strong>


	30. Boarding Pass

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 30-  
>Boarding Pass<strong>

_Sydney Airport  
>September 22, 2004<em>

Jack steps to the counter after Claire receives her ticket, and explains the unusual situation of transporting their father's coffin. The argument becomes heated as the ticket agent repeats Oceanic's policy of having the proper documentation before transporting the deceased.

"I'm sorry." She shakes her head as she scrolls one more time through the computer terminal. "Dr. Shepherd, there's just no latitude."

"No latitude?" Jack responds, the veins in his neck pulsating. "No latitude?"

"Perhaps another carrier?" she timidly suggests.

"No!" Jack erupts. The people in line quiet their conversations to observe the commotion.

"I want you to listen to me, okay?" Jack loosens his collar to calm down. "Because I'm asking you a favor. I'm standing in front of you in the same suit that I'm wearing to my father's funeral and I'm asking you a favor. In 16 hours I need to land at LAX, and I need that coffin to clear customs because there's going to be a hearse waiting there. And I need that hearse to take me and that coffin to a cemetery. Why? Why can't I just bring him to a funeral home and make all the arrangements? Why can't I really take my time with it? Because I need it to be done. I need it to be over. I just, I need to bury my father."

Suddenly, the computer terminal sounds a malfunctioning warning. The ticket agent looks down and types commands into the keyboard to figure out the problem. "I'm sorry, but my computer is locking up." She hits the escape key several more times; the screen display returns, showing Jack's updated information. Her friendly customer service smile returns to her face as she relays the good news. "Dr. Shepherd, it appears everything is OK. We have all the proper documentation, and the coffin has been cleared by customs."

Jack smiles in relief and shares a glance with Claire. The ticket agent prints out the boarding pass and explains additional good news. "Also, Dr. Shepherd, you and a few other select passengers have been chosen to receive preferred treatment as you come on board today. Just listen for your number at the gate."

"My number?" Jack opens the envelope containing the boarding pass. It's printed in black and white with a Dharma logo emblazoned in the middle; the number 23 is bolded at the bottom.

"Enjoy your flight, and thank you for flying Oceanic."

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile..<em>

A Korean man waits quietly by himself in the ticket line; his wife stands at a distance next to the escalator. She looks through the airport exit doors and sees a limousine parked and waiting. She's saddened as the moment of her decision becomes imminent. She glances to the digital clock above her; it's 11:15 and time seems to stand still. She gathers her strength and remains firm in her decision to leave her husband behind. The tears stream down her face as she steps away from the escalator and towards the exit.

The Korean man turns to show her a flower he was hiding beneath his coat. He discovers she's no longer standing at the escalator; he frantically scans the ticket area. He looks to the exit doors and sees her step inside a limousine parked outside. "Sun?" he mumbles as he drops the flower and coat. He races out the glass doors and watches the limousine merge into traffic and drive away. "Sun!"

The cell phone in his pocket rings suddenly; he looks to the display and recognizes his father-in-law's number. "Hello?" he answers nervously in his native tongue.

"Hello Jin," responds Mr. Paik, also in native Korean.

"Please sir, very busy. I will call back," says Jin, jogging down the sidewalk.

"If you want to see Sun again."

His words capture Jin's attention. "You know about this?" he asks, slowing his pace to a walk. "Where did she go?"

"Sun is safe," Mr. Paik assures him. "But if you ever want to see my daughter again, get on board the plane. Oceanic 815."

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile..<em>

U.S. Marshal Edward Mars escorts his female prisoner down Terminal A leading to Gate 23. A coat hangs over her hands to hide the handcuffs she's wearing. She keeps a straight face as she secretly works a paper clip into the keyhole of the cuffs. It's a difficult task to accomplish while walking; she only needs a minute of sitting still to set herself free.

She drops her shoulders and turns to the Marshal, hoping to draw enough sympathy. "I need to go to the bathroom." She casts a smile somewhere between flirtation and neediness. "Please?"

After numerous successes of escape, he's unwilling to let her out of his sight. "Hold it until you get on the plane," he says, staring forward without a flinch.

She glances with a look of annoyance then suddenly feels a click between her wrists. The tension of the cuffs releases. She licks her lips and nervously exhales as she looks around to plan her move for escape.

She maintains a straight face again as two police officers approach from the left side. They're wearing sunglasses and have radio wires wrapped around the back of their ears. One of them flashes his badge and addresses the Marshal. "Marshal Mars, may I have a word with you?"

The Marshal reads over the badge and sees an octagonal symbol with the word Dharma inscribed in the middle. "Who the hell are you?"

"We're here to save the Island." The second officer suddenly injects the Marshal with a tranquilizer and slyly carries him off to the side. The fugitive woman freezes in her stance.

The officer removes his glasses and hands her an envelope. "Katherine Anne Austen?"

"Save the island?" she nervously responds. She quickly slips off the handcuffs and keeps them covered with the coat. "What is this?" She opens the envelope and sees the octagonal logo on paper with the number 51 bolded at the bottom.

The officer puts his sunglasses back on and taps his ear to signal his radio. "It's your boarding pass to freedom Ma'm. Proceed to Gate 23 and listen for your number."

* * *

><p>Moments later at Gate 23, the boarding platform extends and connects to Oceanic 815's passenger entry. Matthew Abaddon, once again nicely dressed in suit and tie, stands behind the gate podium and turns on the microphone. "Good morning passengers. Oceanic airlines flight 815 departing for LAX will be boarding momentarily at Gate 23. Those first to board will be our select passengers with the black octagonal logo on their boarding pass. Once your number is announced, you may approach the gate."<p>

Abaddon clears his throat and looks through the lobby of waiting passengers. "Passenger number 4," he announces.

A bald man in a wheelchair holds up his card and rolls to the gate podium. An Oceanic employee helps push him into the boarding tunnel.

"Passenger 8."

A plump Hispanic man pulls forward in his personal transport vehicle which looks more like a 4x4 Hummer golf cart. "I'm the luckiest dude alive," he announces to everyone as he walks to the podium. He leans forward and whispers a question to Abaddon. "Dude; are, like, the rest of those passenger numbers 15, 16, 23, 42? Because those are my lucky numbers, man. I won the lotto using them."

Abaddon gives him a subtle nod and announces the next number. "Passenger 15."

"I knew it, I knew it!" yells Hurley as he walks into the tunnel. "I'm the luckiest dude alive!"

A man slouching in a chair close by overhears their conversation about luck and numbers. He clears the bangs from his eyes and casually holds up his number 15 ticket. "Hope you seat me next to the El Grande Muchacho; I could use a little of his luck myself." He hands Abaddon his boarding pass and strolls into the tunnel. "Seems like mine's been runnin' a little dry lately."

Abaddon brings the Mic to his mouth and announces the next number. "Passenger 16." He looks around the lobby to the waiting passengers; nobody responds. "Passenger 16?" he repeats, again with no response.

The fugitive woman jogs from the concourse and shows Abaddon her ticket. "Excuse me. I'm running a little late." She's breathing hard after fleeing the scene where the Marshal was tranquilized. "Have you announced my number yet?"

Abaddon looks over her ticket. "Number 51. You weren't on the original list, but they must have added you for a reason. Welcome aboard, Kate Austen."

Kate smiles and enters the boarding tunnel. "Thank you."

Abaddon announces the next number. "Passenger 23."

Jack steps forward along with Claire.

Abaddon looks at the both of them. "Which one of you is number 23?"

Jack raises his hand and steps forward. "I am. But I'm flying with my 9 month pregnant sister, and I figured she could board with me and receive the same preferred treatment."

"Very well, Dr. Shepherd. Welcome aboard." He takes both boarding passes and announces the next number. "Passenger 42."

The Korean man approaches with ticket in hand. He's obviously distraught, and is uncomfortable making eye contact. Abaddon clears his throat and communicates to him in Korean. "You will see her again, I promise."

Jin raises his chin after being encouraged by his words. "Thank you," he says, as he enters the boarding tunnel.

A Middle Eastern man wearing a black sleeveless shirt and cargo pants approaches from the concourse. Abaddon looks in his direction. "And you must be passenger 16."

"Yes, I am delayed only because I was briefly detained by airport police after a blonde haired American woman accused me of being a terrorist," he explains as he shows his ticket.

"I apologize for the inconvenience. But I can assure you; Oceanic 815 would not have taken off without you." Abaddon removes the stub from boarding pass and hands it back. "Have a pleasant flight, Mr. Jarrah."


	31. Prepare For Takeoff

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 31-  
>Prepare For Takeoff<br>**

_Sydney Airport  
>September 22, 2004<em>

After standing with Jin in the ticket line for several minutes, Sun leaves to find a drinking fountain. The anxiety of indecisiveness has parched her throat. A looming decision weighs heavy on her heart that she's managed to keep secret. The water relieves her thirst, but her anxiety remains. Her mind is divided as to what is right.

She stands next to the escalator and waits for her ride. She looks through the glass exit doors and spots a limousine parked next to the curb. The moment of decision has arrived. She glances to the digital clock above her; it's 11:15 and time seems to stand still. She gathers her strength and remains firm in her decision to leave her husband behind. The tears stream down her face as she steps away from the escalator and exits the glass doors. She sees the reflection of her own tear stained face as she approaches the mirror like windows of the limousine. She opens the door and sits inside before giving herself any more time to change her mind.

The limo pulls away and merges into traffic. The leather interior is plush and soft. The dark tinted windows allow very little ambient light, making it difficult to see the face of the mysterious man seated across from her. He leans forward and places his glass of water into the cup holder.

"I realize leaving him behind was very difficult, but you made the right decision, Mrs. Kwon," he says.

"When will you allow me to see my husband again?"

"That's not entirely within my control." He turns a switch on the door which brightens the interior lighting. It's Charles Widmore. "If your husband leaves the Island through the portal, the delay of time is approximately three years."

A tear rushes down Sun's cheek. "Three years?"

"My people are working diligently to locate the Island. If we are successful, it's possible that you may see him again much sooner."

Sun regains her composure after several sobs and sniffles. Charles offers her a tissue to dry her tears. "If you would have boarded flight 815, it is highly likely you would not have survived. In the end, there will only be six survivors; fortunately, one of them will be your husband Jin."

The limousine drives down a stretch of road within the runway takeoff zone. A 747 jet thunders just over head. The limousine trembles in the wake of the jet engine rumblings.

Sun watches the plane retract its landing gear and slowly ascend out of sight. Her expression turns from grief to a look of concern. "What will happen to all the other passengers on board? Do you believe they will die?"

"Besides the chosen six, _there are no other passengers_." Charles smiles and casually takes another sip of water from his glass.

Sun tilts her head slightly. "And how did you accomplish that?"

He leans forward and places his glass back in the holder. "We hijacked the plane, Mrs. Kwon."

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, on board Oceanic 815..<em>

Sawyer opens the overhead compartment to store his carry on luggage; he steps aside to let Kate pass down the aisle. "After you, sweetie."

Kate rolls her eyes and finds her seat close by. He tries again to spark the conversation.

"You're not one of the flight attendants, are ya?"

Kate can no longer suppress her smile. "Do I look like one?" she answers sarcastically.

"Damn," he replies with a grunt. Sawyer shows his boarding pass with the octagonal Dharma logo. "They told me I was supposed to be gettin' preferred treatment, so I was hopin' you were part of the package."

Hurley removes his earphones after hearing part of their conversation. "Ya dude, I've never been on a plane without any flight attendants. This is kinda weird."

Locke rolls up in his wheelchair from the back of the plane. "This is the worst customer service I've ever experienced. The Oceanic employee wheeled me all the way to the rear and left me alone facing backwards."

Sawyer turns and sees Sayid approaching inside the aisle. "What about you, Chief?"

Sayid tucks his bag beneath the chair and parts his curly hair from his brow. "I can assure you, my experience with the gentleman allowing me to board was quite pleasant compared with the interrogation of the airport police."

Sawyer tilts his head back to clear his bangs. "Let me guess. They think you were a terrorist?"

Suddenly, the jet engines throttle up. Hurley peers outside and watches the boarding platform retract. "Uh, dudes, we're like leaving already."

Sawyer, Sayid, and Jack lean across the seats to look out the windows. Claire tightens her grasp on the arm rests. "Jack, what is happening?"

The plane reverses thrust and pulls away from the gate. The boarding platform is retracted only halfway; a security guard stands inside the open tunnel and communicates with a walkie talkie to security personnel on the ground. The plane rotates until parallel to the concourse then accelerates the engines forward thrust. It dangerously picks up speed in the crowded boarding area designated for slow taxiing only.

"Everyone prepare for takeoff! Grab a seat and fasten your seat belt!" instructs the captain over the intercom. A police car brightens its emergency lights and races next to the wing. The jet engine exhaust makes it veer to the side and lose control. "Hang on tight people!" yells Lapidus, as the jet gains enough speed for takeoff.

Suddenly, the commode in the rear lavatory flushes. The door jostles and unlatches; a man, short in stature, emerges and walks calmly up the aisle. Jack turns and quickly recognizes him as Dr. Linus from the Canton Ranier van.

"What are you doing here?"

Ben quickly takes a seat and buckles in. "The same reason you're here, Jack; I'm trying to get back to the Island!"


	32. Reunion

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 32-  
>Reunion<strong>

_Sydney Airport  
>September 22, 2004<em>

Captain Lapidus steers the jet away from the boarding area then shifts the engines into full throttle. The screaming turbines accelerate the massive machine toward liftoff. The landing gear retracts as it clears the tarmac and pulls to a steep climb. "Hold on tight people!" yells Lapidus. The police vehicles give up their chase and congregate in a cloud of dust at the end of the runway.

The jet's ascent is unusually fast due to the lack of passengers and luggage weight. The force of liftoff constrains Jack's body tightly against the chair's cushion. He turns his head to check on his pregnant sister; she pants in short controlled breaths as if she's going into labor. Jack looks across the aisle and sees Hurley panting and bracing himself in an identical position; his belly protrudes as if he were also pregnant.

Jack looks to the next row behind them and sees Ben casually reading a book in the midst of the turbulent takeoff. Suddenly, to the relief of everyone, the plane levels its ascent and the seatbelt sign chimes off.

Jack leans his head across the aisle. "Did you follow me?"

Ben looks up from his book momentarily; his lips narrow to a tight smirk. "It's a race to the Island, Jack; and there are few ways of finding it. The man who made sure each of you boarded this plane, Charles Widmore; he was too cowardly to come on board himself."

Captain Lapidus turns up the volume on the intercom speaker to make an announcement. "Ladies and Gents; this is your captain speaking. Sorry about the rough takeoff; I'm only trying to get you people where you need to go. The only thing I know is we're crossing the Pacific on a bearing of 3-0-5. They told me there's a Dr. Jack Shepherd on board that knows what the hell is going on. So Doc, if you're here, take the mic at the front and explain the situation!"

Kate turns and notices Jack unbuckling his seatbelt. "Are we being kidnapped?" she whispers to Sayid in the seat next to her.

"Hijacked is probably the more appropriate term," Sayid responds calmly. "But do not worry. In case this situation becomes threatening, I have particular expertise in hostile negotiation."

Claire nervously looks to Jack as he passes in front of her. He walks up the aisle and takes the intercom microphone next to the flight attendant bay. He strokes the hair on back of his head while struggling to find the words to explain. "I'm Dr. Shepherd; please, you can call me Jack. Lately, my life has been very complicated." Jack pauses while thumping the microphone to his chest. "Several months ago, I started treating a very special patient at my hospital. She told me I would soon be meeting a group of people I share a special connection with." Jack watches clueless expressions form on everyone's faces.

"What the hell you talkin' about, Doc?" Sawyer grumbles.

Jack clears his throat and massages the back of his neck. "I want each one of you to look at the person you're sitting next to and think; think hard; do I know this person? Because there's a good chance you do."

Hurley looks to Jin. Jin looks to Sayid. Sayid to Kate. Kate to Sawyer. Sawyer looks down the aisle at Locke who's wheeling his way back to join the group.

Jack looks to Claire; she nods to encourage him to keep going. "Three days ago, I met my sister; a sister I never even knew I had. The moment I saw her; I knew. I knew my life was never going to be the same. There's a greater purpose to our lives than any of us have yet to realize. Even the experiences I've had as a doctor; there's something greater. Today is a new beginning for each one of us."

Sawyer moves up several rows and slides into the seat next to Kate. "So how do we know each other, sweet cheeks?"

Kate gawks at Sawyer's persistence; she bites her lip to hold back a smile. "We don't," she answers firmly.

"Oh yeah? You sure you've never been behind bars before?" he asks, his demeanor more serious. He flips out his officer badge; James Ford, Detective, LAPD.

Kate loses her smile; the flirtatious connection between them suddenly goes cold. "So, first you thought I was flight attendant; and now you accuse me of being a criminal?"

Sawyer squints his eyes, forming a stare of suspicion. "Don't you look at me like you don't know what I'm talkin' about." Sawyer leans in closer then softens his voice to make sure nobody else can hear their conversation. "I saw you wearin' handcuffs back at the airport; now how'd you get out of them, Freckles?"

Kate softens to his name calling. "Wait a second." She stares deeply into his hazel eyes; a sudden familiarity overwhelms her. "I know you. You've called me that name before."

Sawyer folds his badge and tucks it back in his front pocket. "Believe me; I've put lots of gals like you in jail. Just because you're good lookin', don't mean you're innocent."

Kate reaches for Sawyer's hand and holds tightly. A sudden sensation, like electricity, transfers between them, followed by a yellow glowing vision in both their minds.

Sawyer instinctively pulls his hand back. "What the hell was that?" He's also overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity. "I know you. Somehow, I know you." Sawyer closes his eyes to concentrate on the vision. "We were both behind bars."

"Yeah, but it wasn't a prison." Kate smiles, as she fully remembers the moment. "It was in a bear cage; on an Island."


	33. First Departure

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 33-  
>First Departure<br>**

Locke rolls up the aisle and parks his wheelchair next to Sayid. "Hello there."

Sayid ignores him and quietly reads a book.

"Must be good." Locke leans over his shoulder and reads along with him. "What are you reading?"

"I'm not." Sayid shuts the book and straightens his chair upright. "It was only my cover, which I'm afraid you may have broken."

Locke purses his lips and turns his wheelchair to face him. "Cover?" He chuckles beneath his breath, reminded of the times of pretend war games at his box company job. "A cover for what?"

Sayid opens the book and pretends to read again. "I am formulating a plan on how to take back the plane."

"Really?" Locke raises his brow, forming a succession of wrinkles across his forehead. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

Sayid turns the page to the book and pauses several seconds before replying. "The man to my left, speaking to the attractive woman with brown hair, is a police officer; I spotted his badge. I believe I could work with him to overtake the cockpit. My primary objective is to locate the plane's transponder. I suspect the pilot has turned it off so the airplane cannot be tracked."

"Tracked?" Locke rolls several inches backward until the wheelchair hits the empty seat behind him. "So, you want to be _rescued_?" he says, lifting his chin but maintaining his stare forward.

Sayid looks up from his book. "Of course. Don't you?"

Locke grips the wheels of his wheelchair and rolls closer. "I came all the way to Australia to go hunting in the outback. The man leading the expedition told me I couldn't come because I'm crippled." Locke closes one eye and points his finger upward as if he's lecturing a classroom. "I'm getting tired of being told _what I can't do_."

Sayid is unfazed by Locke's dramatics; he sighs and looks down again to his book. "We are trapped in a hijacked plane cruising at an altitude of thirty thousand feet. None of us _can do_ anything."

Locke moves his hand toward Sayid's chest while keeping his finger pointed. "What if where we are going is a place where we discover our destiny?" Locke extends the rest of his fingers and opens his palm for a handshake.

Sayid glances down suspiciously and hesitates to offer his hand in return.

Locke grins, keeping his hand out. "You don't remember me, do you Sayid?"

Sayid is caught off guard after hearing his name. He slowly extends his hand to return the handshake. "No," he whispers.

Locke smiles and gives a firm handshake. "You will."

Suddenly, a sudden sensation of electricity transfers between them. A yellow glow blinds Sayid's vision, disorienting him as he holds tight to Locke's hand. The yellow glow dissipates as he awakens in a hospital bed with a blood covered sheet over top of him.

He sits up and throws the bloodied sheet to the side. "Where am I?"

The group of Hurley, Kate, Sawyer, and Locke stand around him and marvel at seeing Sayid come back to life. Locke smiles and nods. "Tell me first, Sayid; where _were_ you?"

Sayid looks around to the group then narrows his stare at Locke in accusatory fashion. "I was sitting next to you on the plane."


	34. Rescue

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 34-  
>Rescue<strong>

Sayid narrows his stare at Locke in accusatory fashion. "I was sitting next to you on the plane." He releases the firm grip of Locke's handshake; a handshake which began on board an airliner thirty thousand feet in the air, with a man in a wheelchair who's now miraculously standing upright before him. Sayid's memories are quickly returning. Those who were once unrecognizable strangers in another world are now the friends surrounding him.

A tear streams down Kate's cheek. "Sayid?"

Hurley rushes over to give him a hug. "Dude! You're alive man!"

Sawyer's signature dimples form along the creased ends of his smile. "Good to see you, boss." For the first time after losing Juliet, he experiences a sense of gratitude. "What the hell plane are you talkin' about? Ajira?"

Locke answers for him. "No, not Ajira. Oceanic 815." He winks at Sayid, confirming his shared awareness of the plane flight on the other side.

Sayid lowers his legs from the hospital bed and puts his feet to the floor. His knees are shaky and his head aches. He massages his temples and looks over the room to establish his orientation. His surroundings have instantaneously changed from airliner to spaceship-like walls of reinforced steel. "Where am I now? The hatch?"

"We're inside the Hydra, on Hydra Island," answers Locke. "Welcome back, Sayid."

Footsteps are heard approaching from the hallway; suddenly Jin, Theresa, and Jack arrive at the doorway. Apparently, Theresa has since awakened from her coma. Like players helping an injured teammate, she uses the support of Jin and Jack beneath her shoulders to help keep her balance while walking. She's astounded at the sight of Sayid being alive and well, after first discovering him to be dead. "Number 16?" she says. "You're alive?"

Sayid's mind is full of confusion, especially after being addressed as a number. He remembers his friends, but is unsure of the circumstances that brought all of them there. His eyes turn suspiciously toward Theresa. "I don't recognize you. Who are you?"

Jack takes initiative to introduce her since most of the group has never spoken with her. "Everybody; I'd like you to meet Theresa Spencer. She came to the Island to help us."

"Help us?" Sayid retorts, his tone slightly scoffing. His soldier trained instincts are heightened; he wants to gather intelligence before offering a stranger his trust. He shares several glances with the group to gauge their level suspicion then narrows his stare back at Theresa. "Are you here to _rescue_ us?"

Theresa realizes she risks the loss of cooperation by speaking truthfully. "Rescue isn't exactly my primary objective," she answers, her voice quivers with hesitancy.

"I see." Sayid's suspicion is substantiated; he glances to Jack with a look of concern. "That is the exact answer the scientist from the freighter gave us when asked the same question."

"Scientist? You mean Daniel Faraday?" Theresa steps away from Jack and stands on her own strength. "Daniel was the one who sent me here." She raises her voice to emphasize the urgency of everyone's collective mission. "The primary objective has always been to save the Island; and because each of you is alive, there is still hope. Every one of you has unique talents and abilities which will somehow be used in saving it."

Sayid stubbornly sighs and shakes his head. "Are you politely asking me to arm and detonate another nuclear device? This time I would prefer using my talents in less destructive ways."

Theresa maintains her serious demeanor and addresses the group. "Our first priority is making contact off the Island. I was instructed to do so once I identified all of the survivors. There is a telephone in the Hydra surveillance room; I tried using it, but the connection isn't working."

Sayid raises an eyebrow at the mention of a broken telephone. "I believe my talents as a military communications officer can be put to good use in this situation." Although he's unsure whether to trust her, communicating off Island is still a necessary step to being rescued. He approaches Theresa and places a hand on her shoulder. "_Take me to the surveillance room_."

* * *

><p><em>2004<br>On board Oceanic 815_

Sayid releases his handshake grip and catches himself before fainting. The yellow glow of Sayid's vision fades and transitions to an even hue of sunlight projecting through the airplane cabin windows. The familiar comfort of his cushioned seat and fastened seatbelt returns. "How long was I gone?" he asks Locke, who sits in his wheelchair besides him.

"You never left, Sayid."

He massages his temples to soothe the headache. His surroundings have once again instantaneously morphed; he looks around to reorient himself back inside the airplane. "Was I having a dream?"

Locke grins, shaking his head. "It's just as real as being here. You're in two different worlds, Sayid. All of us are."

"Am I dead?"

"No," he says, chuckling beneath his breath. "Just more aware." Locke grips the wheels of his wheelchair and rotates it sideways. "It's time for everyone to wake up."

Sayid looks around to the passengers, recognizing each face before they recognize him. "Who will you speak to next?"

Locke looks straight down the aisle and eyes Claire sitting toward the back. "The pregnant girl at the back."


	35. The Little Prince

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 35-  
>The Little Prince<br>**

Theresa leads the group of eight survivors through the maze of Hydra's hallways to the surveillance room; the low pitch hum of electronics and cathode ray tubes echoes from inside the enclosure. She opens the door; the red and green buttons on the control panel flash like Christmas lights. A console of six overhead monitors displays grainy black and white images of eerie inactivity. What was once an active underwater Dharma laboratory has become a morgue for the unfortunate victims of the Incident.

Theresa toggles the camera views on the monitors by flipping several switches. "I came into the surveillance room first so I could use the cameras. This is how I found each of you." She points to the telephone mounted at the end of the control board and signals to Sayid. "Do you think you can you fix it?"

Sayid picks up the receiver and listens to the ear piece; neither dial tone nor static. "This could be a power issue." He opens a panel and shines his penlight into a dizzying array of color coded cords, following each wire to determine the configuration. "I think I can make a connection, but I need tools; wire cutters, tape, and a small phillips head."

Locke raises his hand to volunteer. "We passed by a utility closet in the hallway. Maybe there's a toolbox. I'll be back in a second."

Claire stays close to his side as he tries to leave. "I'm going with you," she says.

* * *

><p><em>On board Oceanic 815<br>2004  
><em>

Except for the bear cage romance with Sawyer, Kate's memories of the Island are still vague. She slides into the seat next to Claire hoping to start conversation. "Hey, I'm Kate."

Claire is nervously preoccupied rubbing her pregnant belly. "I'm Claire."

Kate leans closer and tries to make eye contact. "A boy or girl?"

"A boy," she says shrugging her shoulders. "I'm really worried about him. He hasn't moved since last night."

Claire looks familiar but Kate has difficulty linking her face to her Island memories. Kate cautiously places a hand on her shoulder, hoping another vision conjures to clarify their connection. Unfortunately, nothing happens. Kate keeps the hand on her shoulder to console her. "Listen to me, Claire. Everything will be OK," she counsels in a soft voice.

Claire shakes her head and begins to sob. "I'm not even supposed to be on this plane. They didn't call my number."

Kate shows her special Dharma boarding pass to try to minimize its importance. "These tickets don't mean anything, Claire. My number is 51; it's not even a seat number on the plane."

"Neither is mine," Claire replies, showing her standard Oceanic ticket which lacks the special Dharma insignia. "The numbers mean something, Kate."

Kate opens Claire's boarding pass and reads aloud the number on her ticket. "B-612." Suddenly, the reading of the number sets off a blinding yellow vision inside of Kate's mind. She's walking up stairs inside a house and peaks into a bedroom and sees a man reading a bedtime story to a child. She awakens from the vision and nervously gasps. "Oh!"

"You know what it means, don't you?" asks Claire, oblivious to Kate's transcendental experience.

The vision only adds to Kate's confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't." She looks up the aisle and recognizes Jack as the man in her vision; memories of living with Jack and raising Aaron pool to the front of her mind. Sweat forms on her forehead and beads down her face; the shame of living a lie resurfaces. She nervously looks to Claire, hoping her face doesn't give away her story.

"The Little Prince," answers Claire.

Kate's caught off guard by her words. "The Little what?" she asks squinty eyed.

"The Little Prince. B-612 is the asteroid home of the Little Prince. It's a children's story."

Suddenly, a knocking thump inside Claire's belly. "Oh!"

Kate frantically leans over to assist. "Are you OK?"

"Yes! My baby!" she rejoices. The movement relieves her fears that something was wrong. She cuddles her belly as if the baby were already in her arms. "My Little Prince!"

The mysterious man in the wheelchair rolls in close and interrupts their celebration. He shares a cold glance with Kate and waits for Claire's attention. "Hello, Claire."

* * *

><p><em>The Hydra<em>  
><em>1977<em>

Locke pulls the chain to the overhead light inside the utility closet; the shelves on the walls hold bottles of cleaning equipment and toilet paper. "Looks like a janitor's closet," he jokes. They spread out and start at opposite ends of the room to look for the tools Sayid requested. Claire shuffles some boxes and comes upon a pistol hidden behind a paint can. She slyly tucks it into the waistline of her pants, glancing over to Locke to make sure he doesn't see.

"Found it," says Locke, picking up a metal toolbox. He opens the top and shuffles the contents. "We have tape, wire cutter, and phillips," he says, holding up the screwdriver. "Let's go."

They walk the hallway leading back to the surveillance room. Claire slows her pace and falls behind; Locke suddenly hears the clicking of gun cocking behind him. "Turn around John," she instructs.

Locke glances black and drops the toolbox to the ground. "Claire?" He raises his hands slowly in surrender. "What are you doing?"

"Three years, John. I've waited on this Island three long years for all of you to return. I'm ready to go, but before I can leave, I need my baby back. The man in the cabin told me you would bring me to him, but I'm tired of following." She steps closer and raises the pistol. "What did you do with my baby?"

* * *

><p><em>On board Oceanic 815<br>2004_

The mysterious man in the wheelchair rolls in close and interrupts their celebration. He shares a cold glance with Kate and waits for Claire's attention. "Hello, Claire."

Claire stops petting her belly and looks up. The face of the man looks familiar. "Who are you?"

He reaches out and grips the top of her arm. "What did you do with the baby?"


	36. For Every Action

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 36-  
>For Every Action<strong>

_1977  
>The Hydra<em>

"What did you do with my baby?" Her icy stare lacks the familiar timidity of the young woman the Oceanic survivors used to know. She's now her own survivor. Like a caterpillar trapped inside a cocoon, the Island was a place for her metamorphosis. Three years later, she's now a formidable mother who's desperate for her son. Her forearm muscles bulge as she tightens her grip and steadies the pistol. Her left eyelid twitches; she closes it, then aligns her other eye along the sight of the barrel.

Locke slowly bends his elbows and lowers his hands, hoping she grants him some range of freedom. She quickly re-cocks the chamber to emphasize she's not in the mood to mess around. "Don't move!"

Kate steps out of the surveillance room to investigate the commotion. "Claire?" She sees the gun and instinctively jumps aside to get out of the line of fire.

Locke wiggles his fingertips to keep Claire's focus on himself. "Stay back Kate," he warns. "This is between me and Claire." He takes a half step closer and attempts conversation past a question he's unable to answer. "You were there too, remember?" He rotates his arms slightly downward, and gestures like a pedestrian pleading an oncoming car to stop. "You were there with me, inside the cabin." He clenches his right hand while leaving his index finger extended. "He said the baby was where he was supposed to be. I figured you already knew; but now that I'm back, it all makes sense. I'm supposed to lead you, just like I'm supposed to lead everyone else to what this Island wants to give back to them." Locke hopes his words have reestablished their trust; he relaxes his arms to his side and takes another step closer.

She opens her left eye again and lowers the gun slightly. "He doesn't know where my baby is, John. And neither do you. He lied to the both of us."

Locke nods and grins confidently. "He does know, Claire. You'll see. He knows more about this Island than any of us. He's the one who brought me here. He knew how to bring me back from the dead."

"If that's true, then you have nothing to lose," she replies while raising the pistol.

"Goodbye John."

She snaps the trigger. _BANG_. The sound of echoing gunshot alerts the others inside the surveillance room.

Locke places his hand on his blood stained abdomen and drops to his knees.

* * *

><p><em>2004<br>On board Oceanic 815_

"What did you do with the baby?" he says holding her arm. The intensity of Locke's grip begins to cut off her circulation.

The question reignites her fears about the condition of her pre-born infant. "My baby? Is he going to be OK?"

Kate's unsure how to come to her defense after such an unusual question by such an unusual man, and she hesitates to disclose what happened after they left the Island. She leans close to be a part of their conversation.

Locke softens his voice but not his grip. "You were in the cabin with Christian. He said the baby was where he was supposed to be. He must have told you something."

Claire wrestles her arm to escape his hold. "Stop touching me!" Suddenly, a shocking sensation transfers from Locke's hand and a yellow glow clouds her vision. She stops struggling and stares forward in a trance like state.

"You remember, don't you?" asks Locke.

Her left eye twitches. The trance relaxes her body to a point where she begins to fall unconscious. "Goodbye, John." She closes her eyes and slumps over against Kate.

Kate props up Claire's head to make sure she doesn't fall forward. She reaches across her lap and reclines her seat. "What did you do to her?"

"I'm trying to help her." Locke suddenly feels a burning sensation just above his waistline. He presses his shirt where the pain emanates; blood seeps from an abdominal wound and quickly soaks his shirt. "Oh no."

Kate panics at the sudden sight of blood. "Help! He's bleeding! Hurry!"

Jack springs into action as a physician. He sprints down the aisle and sees his pregnant sister is asleep but also unharmed. His attention quickly turns to the man bleeding in the wheelchair. He lifts Locke's shirt to check the wound and yells instructions to Kate. "I need clean towels! As many as you can find, right now! Hurry!"

* * *

><p><em>The Hydra<em>

Claire tucks the gun beneath her belt and runs in the opposite direction away from the surveillance room.

Kate stoops down and sees the fresh bullet wound. "Help! He's bleeding! Hurry!"

The group rushes out of the surveillance room after hearing the gunshot. Jack sprints down the hall and springs into action as a physician. "What happened?" He lifts Locke's shirt to check the wound and yells instructions to Kate. "I need clean towels! As many as you can find, right now! Hurry!"

* * *

><p><em>Oceanic 815<em>

Kate passes a towel to Jack who quickly fastens it to the wound. Locke is still conscious; he sits up in his wheelchair and insists on holding the towel for himself. "Thank you, Jack, but I'm going to be OK."

Jack takes another towel from Kate and before replacing the other, notices the bleeding has already slowed. He places his hand to the skin and examines the wound.

"I'm going to be OK, Jack," Locke assures him. "Fortunately, I don't have a kidney on my left side."

Jack places a fresh towel on the wound then looks over to Claire who is still lying unconscious. "What the hell is happening?" he asks with a puzzled look.

Kate clears her throat and decides to confess what's been weighing on her conscious. "I took the baby," she says while caressing and staring into Claire's expressionless face. She looks to Jack, his look of puzzlement remains; it's obvious he doesn't remember their time together on and off the Island, at least not yet. "I was with her on the Island. I helped deliver the baby. Before we left, she went missing. She left her baby inside the base of a tree. So I took him, and raised him for three years."

Locke nods and pats her shoulder to encourage her. "You did the right thing, Kate." He looks back to Claire, hoping she awakens and remembers the details of everything that happened. "But the question is still unanswered as to why she would leave her baby at the bottom of a tree."

* * *

><p><em>The Hydra<em>

Kate passes a towel to Jack who quickly fastens it to the wound. Locke is still conscious; he sits up and insists on holding the towel for himself. "Thank you, Jack, but I'm going to be OK."

Jack takes another towel from Kate and before replacing the other, notices the bleeding has already slowed. He places his hand to the skin and examines the wound.

"I'm going to be OK, Jack," Locke assures him. "Fortunately, the bullet passed through my left side exactly where my kidney was removed."

Jack places a fresh towel on the wound. "What the hell is happening?" he asks with a puzzled look.

Locke keeps the pressure on the wound as Jack helps him to his feet. "Claire's confused. She's looking for her baby and she wants to blame me."

Kate exchanges a glance with Jack then looks back to Locke. "I took Aaron. I raised him off the Island for three years."

"I know. But he's back on the Island, and I'm supposed to help her find him." He places a hand on Kate's shoulder. "I need you to go after Claire. You're the only one here with experience in tracking. It's important that all of us be together when we go back to the main island."

Kate nods and takes several steps away before glancing back at Jack. "Go now, Kate!" instructs Locke. She runs off down the hallway to find an exit out of the Hydra.

"This is madness," scoffs Sayid after listening to their conversation. "My first priority is to make contact off the Island so we can be rescued." He steps forward from the group and picks up the toolbox. "I trust that you found the tools I requested?"

"Yes." Locke smugly grins and winks an eye. "They're coming, Sayid."

* * *

><p><em>Oceanic 815<em>

Locke looks back to Claire, hoping she awakens and remembers the details of everything that happened. "But the question is still unanswered as to why she would leave her baby at the bottom of a tree."

Kate runs her fingers through Claire's hair and supports her head against her shoulder. Although she's still unconscious, she senses their sisterly bond already forming. She notices her clothing bounce around her arching tummy and moves her hand over the moving skin. Her eyes widen in shock. "The baby; he's kicking her really hard," she says, looking to Jack. Her mind races at the terrifying thought of her having the baby in mid air. Jack leans over and feels the movement for himself.

Locke smugly grins and winks an eye at Sayid. "We're coming, Sayid."


	37. Take the Call

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 37-  
>Take the Call<br>**

_The Hydra  
>1977<em>

"They're coming, Sayid."

Sayid raises an eyebrow, and hesitates to ask Locke to clarify his typical Island-saving semantics. Given their shared memory of an alternate airliner in an alternate universe, he concludes the logical and ridiculous; _they're coming to rescue themselves_. He checks the contents of the toolbox and locates the tools he needs. "Nobody will be coming unless I fix the phone."

Kate glances back from an emergency exit door before leaving on her mission to track Claire. Jack locks eyes with her momentarily before she closes the door. Suddenly, he feels a tingling sensation running down the front of his neck. "Cut yourself shaving, Doc?" asks Sawyer, who notices a sliver of blood forming along the skin of Jack's Adam's apple.

Jack feels the tiny abrasion with his fingertips then uses a fresh towel to dab the blood away. "I haven't shaved in weeks," he replies with a confused look.

Theresa sees what's happening to Jack and grabs Sayid's arm as he leaves to repair the phone. "Hurry, Sayid; we don't have much time."

* * *

><p><em>On board Oceanic 815<br>2004_

Jack gently maneuvers his hand around Claire's pregnant belly to feel her baby's movement.

Kate presses her hand on a protruding bump along the skin. "Over here," she says.

He moves his hand next to hers; they look into each others eyes as they scan for movement. Kate's eyes shift between Jack's eyes and lips, but Jack maintains his strict physician composure.

"Do you feel anything?" he asks.

"Yes," she answers softly, her stare now fixated at his lips. "I mean," she turns, with a grinning blush. "No. He stopped kicking, I think." She moves her hand about, feeling again for another area of tightened skin. She brushes by Jack's hand; he keeps scanning and ignores the touch as accidental. He shakes his head and gives his final diagnosis. "I don't feel anything."

She fixates again on Jack's face. "I do," she responds softly again.

He moves his hand underneath hers. "Here?"

"Yes," she responds with her eyes locked to his lips, gently tightening her hand over his.

Jack is suddenly entranced by a blinding yellow vision then awakens after a swift prenatal kick to the hand. He stands quickly and backs away. "What happened?"

Kate tilts her head to the side with a subtle look of disappointment. "You don't remember, do you?" she asks.

Locke straightens his wheelchair and interrupts their climactic reintroduction before Jack ruins the moment any further. "Jack's problem is not his memory, Kate; it's his willingness to believe." He rolls closer and locks the brakes on his wheels. "Tell me, Jack; what do you remember?"

"Remember?" Jack's expression turns clueless. "Remember about what?"

"About the Island our plane is heading toward."

Jack feels the tingle of bleeding along the crevassed skin of his neck. He wipes with the back of his sleeve, excusing the blood as a botched job of morning shaving. "I don't remember anything, except for the familiar face of my patient."

"Your patient?"

Jack nods. "Theresa Spencer; she told me all about an Island in 1977. She was a patient of my father's for thirty years."

"Your father?" Locke bites down on his top lip while gathering his thoughts. "Yes. This is all making sense."

Jack scratches his head, curious of what Locke's thinking. "What do you remember?"

Locke's lip biting expression gives way to a grin and chuckle. "I remember waking from a plane crash and being able to move my legs. I remember our fearless leader, Dr. Jack Shepherd, giving a grand speech on the beach to all of the survivors about the need for us to live together or else we would all die alone. But before you gave that speech, you chased a white rabbit through the jungle."

"White rabbit?"

Locke leans forward while using his paralyzed thighs as padded rests for his elbows. "That's right. A white rabbit. You were looking for your father, Jack."

The pain of losing his father resurfaces to the forefront of Jack's mind. "I lost my father in Sydney. He's in a coffin on the plane."

Locke unsympathetically shrugs his shoulders and grins. "And so was I, Jack."

Jack's forehead tightens and narrows the gap between his eyebrows; the man in the wheelchair is either callous or crazy. "Excuse me?" asks Jack in an irritated voice.

Locke massages the shaven hairs at the tip of his chin then sits up straight in his wheelchair. "The Island has something it wants to reveal to you; something concerning your Father."

* * *

><p><em>Shands Hospital<br>Gainesville, Fl  
>1977<em>

A young girl is wheeled through the emergency room entrance; her frantic mother following closely behind. She's unconscious and strapped securely to the stretcher. A paramedic keeps pressure on her wrist to make sure she maintains a pulse.

A young and ambitious resident surgeon, Dr. Christian Shepherd, happens to be walking through the emergency room corridor at the time. He places his stethoscope on and calmly takes initiative.

"She'll be fine. We'll take good care of her," he assures the mother while placing a hand on her shoulder.

She catches her breathe between tears. "Thank you, Doctor."

The medic takes his hand off her wrist and steps back from the stretcher. "Pulse 85 and steady; blood pressure is normal."

"How did this happen?" he asks as he moves the stethoscope about her chest.

The mother looks over and nods for the medic to speak first. "Not sure exactly, Doc. When I came on the scene; she was unconscious. No trauma. I think she fainted from the heat."

"No, no, no." The mother shakes her head in disagreement. "I told you, she didn't faint. It's something very different," the mother explains in a tone of frustration.

The medic stares at Christian with a look of annoyance. He's run out of patience with the mother's nagging. "You can take it from here, Doc," he says, as he leaves the room.

Christian shines his penlight into the girl's right eye; both eyes react by blinking rapidly. He clicks the penlight off. "She's awake."

"That's because you woke her," the mother responds in a thick British accent. Theresa's eyes stop blinking and close once again. "There, you see; she's left us again."

Christian places a hand on her forehead, and gently pulls her eyelid open. Her pupil remains dilated, and her stare remains straight. "You're right. This is very peculiar."

He gently pulls her hair back and checks the other eye.

"What's her name?"

"Theresa," she says. "I'm Mrs. Spencer, her mother."

"I'm Dr. Shepherd," he says without stopping to shake hands. He feels behind her head for any signs of trauma, then moves downward to feel the lymph nodes on her neck.

Little Theresa mumbles beneath her breath. Her words are first incoherent, then recognizable as a series of numbers. "4 mumble mumble 23 mumble 42 mumble mumble 8 mumble mumble 15 16 23 mumble 4 8 15 16 23 42."

Theresa's mother recites the numbers along with her. "4-8-15-16-23-42. The numbers. She's spoken them before." She looks to Christian and shrugs her shoulders. "My daughter has a knack for numbers."

"Anything else you can tell me?" Christian asks with a perplexed look, hoping for clues which are less bizarre.

"She has quite an imagination," her Mother explains, hoping some symptoms can be attributed to her being a child. "She pretends sometimes to be in other places, at different times."

Little Theresa stops mumbling and suddenly awakens from her trance. Her mother comforts her by squeezing her hand. "Hey sweetie," she smiles. "Welcome back."

"I'm there now, Mommy," she says playfully, as if she's playing a game of hide-and-go-seek.

"Where, sweetie?"

"The Island, silly. The one with the sharks and polar bears."

* * *

><p><em>The Hydra<br>1977_

Theresa scans the surveillance monitors for any signs of activity. Jack flips two of the control panel switches to change camera views. The monitor above switches to a grainy image of the shark swimming in the aquarium; another switches to a polar bear in a cage. "Sharks and polar bears," says Theresa. "This Island is full of them."

Her scanning of the monitors prompts Jack's curiosity. "Looking for something?" he asks.

"Yes," she answers quietly, hoping not to alarm the rest of the group. "Someone else is here."

Sawyer interrupts their conversation. "Someone else is alive? Who?" Jin and Hurley also step forward and pay close attention to the monitors.

"I don't know," she says, switching to another camera view. "The antidote I brought with me is gone. It was next to me when I fell unconscious. Somebody must have taken it."

Jack nods, remembering the box of syringes she was carrying when they first met. "The antidote? You mean the six syringes?"

"Yes. It's an antidote that helps balance the effects of the radiation; temporal displacement," she explains openly to the group.

"Uhh, what's tempo-rare display-ment?" says Hurley, shifting eyes with Sawyer and Jin.

"Temporal displacement. Its first symptoms are headache and nosebleed. Then, memories will surface you've never had before; memories of experiences created because of the Incident."

"Woah, like alternate universes or something?" answers Hurley, still shifting eyes with the rest of the group. "I guess we're all OK. Right guys?"

Theresa watches Jack wipe the bloody cut on his neck again. "No, we're not," she says.

Sayid exchanges a look with Locke while splicing wires on the telephone. "Locke and I have memories of being on a different Oceanic 815 airliner. You are saying this memory is caused by the Incident?"

Theresa nods and explains further. "The different timelines are converging; the universe is course correcting itself." She looks to Jack and points out the cut on his neck. "Jack; the cut on your neck was something you experienced in another place, or another time."

A drop of blood suddenly dribbles from Theresa's nostril to her lip. "Oh no," she says while wiping her nose and checking for blood. "It's happening to me too." She faints forward into Jack's arms; he catches her and gradually lays her to the floor.

* * *

><p><em>Shands Hospital<br>Gainesville, Fl  
>1977<em>

Christian teases young Theresa by making a silly face. "Heehee," she laughs. "Are you really a doctor or just pretend?"

"Yes, I'm really a doctor. What are you?"

"I'm a scientist," she says with sincerity. "Guess what? There's a doctor on the Island with me right now."

"There is? What's his name?" Christian replies, his curiosity growing.

Before she can answer, her eyes close and her expression goes blank. "Theresa? Baby?" Her mother tightens her grip on her hand and tugs at her arm. "Theresa, stay with us baby."

Young Theresa's eyelids flutter and she awakens again. Her demeanor is more serious.

"Jack," she says, her voice slightly deeper.

Christian loses his playful smile; a chilling thought comes to mind. He's unable to hide his reaction from Theresa's mother.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Oh, it's nothing," says Christian. His thoughts drift to his young son, who he's been pushing to become a doctor ever since he was a toddler.

Young Theresa speaks again in a serious tone. "Dad, if you can hear me now, and I believe that you can; I love you, and I miss you."

* * *

><p><em>The Hydra<br>1977_

Theresa lays motionless on the floor of the surveillance room. Jack uses a towel to wipe the blood from her nose then folds it beneath her head for a pillow.

Sayid tapes one last wire together and checks the receiver for a clear connection. "I believe it's working," he says. "The phone connects to an internal relay device which carries the signal to the radio tower on the main island. From there, it transmits off the Island. The connection is already designated to a predetermined location, so there is no dialing out. Should I call now?"

Theresa suddenly awakens and grabs Jack's arm. "Take the call, Jack. It's an important call."

Sayid hands over the phone to Jack. "The connection should patch through any second."

* * *

><p><em>Shands Hospital<br>Gainesville, Fl  
>1977<em>

Young Theresa looks to Christian and gives him clear instruction. "Take the call, it's an important call."

Christian is startled as the emergency room phone mounted on the wall suddenly rings.

*ring ring* *ring ring* *ring ring* *ring ring*

(to be continued!)

* * *

><p><strong>Dear Readers, I hope you're enjoying! If you've made it this far, you have made it to a significant point in the story that I've been trying to build to...I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing... For clarification, the six syringes were mentioned in the very first chapter, and young Theresa being in the hospital was in Chapter 3.. I am soooo excited to bring it this far and to finally reveal more about the role of the mysterious Christian Shepherd... more to come! Please throw me a comment if you like! -bobt<strong>


	38. A Son's Plea

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 38-  
>A Son's Plea<strong>

_Home of Abigail Spencer,  
>Sister and caretaker for Theresa<br>Oxford, England  
>2004<em>

Eloise Hawking stands patiently at the front door after knocking. She clears her throat as the deadbolt unlocks and the door cracks open. "Hello Abigail," she says, introducing herself to the stoic caregiving sister peaking her head outside. "I'm Mrs. Hawking; Daniel's mother."

Abigail widens the door and places her hand to her chest. "Daniel Faraday?" It's been several months since the horrific accident inside the radiation laboratory at Oxford University. Her anger towards Daniel begins to resurface; the accident resulting in Theresa's condition was due to his overzealous methods of research.

"I came to apologize."

Abigail rapidly blinks her eyes to clear the forming tears. "Very well," she nods.

"I understand your pain," Eloise treads lightly and chooses her words carefully. Abigail stops blinking; a tear streams down her cheek. Eloise places a hand on her shoulder. "I understand because my son will also no longer be the same. He doesn't remember me."

Abigail responds with fettered emotion. "I want my sister back."

"May I please have a word with her?" Eloise asks, hoping she's not intruding.

Abigail nods and stands aside for her to enter. They walk to the first bedroom at the end of the hallway. A heart monitor paces steadily in the background. Theresa lies unconscious in bed with eyes half open.

Eloise gasps, placing a hand over her mouth. "Oh dear."

Abigail pays no attention to Eloise's reaction of surprise. "Theresa, love, you have a visitor," she says cheerfully, holding Theresa's hand as if she were fully aware. Her blank gaze forward is awkwardly piercing.

Abigail finally takes notice of Eloise's dumbfounded expression. "Do you understand my pain now, Mrs. Hawking?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Abigail folds Theresa's limp hands to her chest and clears the hair away from her eyes. "She hasn't awakened since the accident. God bless her." She steps toward the door and turns before leaving Eloise for some time by herself. "You said you wanted to speak with her; please, do so. I like to believe she's able to hear us."

Eloise takes a chair and sits close to her bedside. "Hello, Theresa. We met only briefly at Daniel's graduation. I'm sorry I was rude to you." Eloise looks into her eyes and recognizes her beautiful yet lifeless face. "I've been protective of Daniel ever since he was a child. Even before he was born, I knew he was very special." She leans close and speaks softly as if she were sharing a secret. "He was very fond of you, so I hope you don't mind if I tell you a secret; something he would tell you if he only knew."

Eloise pauses before sharing. Theresa's heart monitor beeps faintly in the background; her body and head completely motionless; most likely the secret will be kept safe. "Daniel's only cure for his memory loss is to go to the Island. Unfortunately, he will die there because of my actions; such is destiny." She reaches for Theresa's hand and grasps gently. "This is all my fault. I led him down this path. The science. The mathematics; all in the hope he could figure some way of avoiding the future; but there isn't any way."

Theresa's hand suddenly responds with a gentle grasp. Her breathing slows and becomes fuller. "Don't give up, Mother," she mumbles with eyes half closed.

Eloise gasps at the sound of her voice. "Oh dear. Theresa?"

Theresa opens her eyes fully and orients herself to her new surroundings. "Mrs. Hawking?"

"Oh dear!" says Eloise. She grabs a glass of water on the lamp stand and places the straw to Theresa's dry lips.

After several refreshing gulps, Theresa rubs her eyes and clears her throat. "I was just with him, Mrs. Hawking; with Daniel. He's alive."

"Oh dear!" Eloise places her hand against her chest as if she's having a heart attack.

"He doesn't blame you for what happened. But if you ever want to see him alive, he needs your help."

"Oh dear! Yes! What must I do to save him?"

Theresa is already regaining her strength; she removes the pillows behind her head and leans her back against the headrest. "The people you helped in 1977; the ones you showed the hydrogen bomb; six of them will be returning very soon from the Island. They have to go back, Mrs. Hawking; every one of them. You need to find a way."

Eloise expression turns anxious. "But there isn't a way, dear. The window to the Island won't open again for years."

Theresa reassures her with a smile. "Use the pendulum at the lamppost to rerun the equations; it should open again very soon. You must bring all of them back, and recreate the conditions of the original flight as best you can; including the casket on board.

* * *

><p><strong>A little sidenote for clarification: There are two 2004s; the original 2004 and the alternate 2004. The 2004 in this chapter is the original one; where Daniel Faraday was raised as a scientist, and the Losties leave the Island as the Oceanic six and eventually return to Island in 2007 on the Ajira flight. Hope this helps, might be a little confusing.. -bobt<strong>


	39. Transmission

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 39-  
>Transmission<strong>

_The Hydra  
>1977<em>

Theresa lies motionless on the surveillance room floor. She suddenly awakens and grabs Jack by the arm. "Take the call, Jack. It's an important call."

Sayid hands over the phone. "The connection should patch through any second."

Jack clutches the device to his ear and listens for sounds of connectivity. A series of static buzzes and automated dials blast through the earpiece like the sound of an old dial-up modem. After several rings, a woman's voice calmly answers.

"Hello, Jack."

Jack gives a thumbs up to Sayid to signal the connection went through. "Hello? Who is this?"

"This is Mrs. Hawking, my dear; the woman from the church in Los Angeles. Listen carefully, we don't have much time until we're disconnected. How many are with you?"

Jack looks around and counts heads. "Seven, including Theresa Spencer. She told me she knows you."

"Yes, I am with her right now at her sister's home in Oxford. She told me you would call."

Jack glances down at Theresa who's still unconscious on the surveillance room floor. "I don't understand; Theresa's with us."

"But she's also here. The time differential set between us is twenty seven years," she explains. "It's 1977 on the Island, but I'm speaking to you now from 2004. Our meeting inside the church hasn't even happened yet."

Sayid leans close to listen in on their conversation. "I can't hear. What is she saying?" It's obvious he's anxious for details of a rescue.

Jack shrugs his shoulders and covers the phone with his hand. "It's Eloise; the woman who brought us to the bomb." Jack uncovers the phone and asks about the possibility of rescue. "I did what you asked me to do. I placed my father's shoes on John Locke in the casket, and now he's alive and standing next to me. We detonated the bomb you showed us. We're the only ones left alive on the Island. Is anybody coming for us?"

"Not yet, my dear," Eloise sighs, hoping the survivors will be patient enough to cooperate. "Stay close to Theresa and do as she says. As long as you're with her, I will be able to guide you. The bomb was only a temporary solution to the incident; unless you get back to the main Island and fix what has occurred, the Island will be destroyed."

Jack subtly shakes his head to tell Sayid their rescue will have to wait. Locke crosses his arms and grins in satisfaction as Jack asks the one question that matters.

"So how do we save the Island?"

* * *

><p><em>On board Oceanic 815<br>2004_

Sayid, Sawyer, Jack, and Hurley gather at the cockpit door in an effort to communicate with the pilot. Sayid pulls out his keychain and shows a small screwdriver attached to a key ring. "I can detach the paneling along side the cockpit door to expose the locking mechanism. Afterward, I will be able to disengage the steel bolt holding the door in place. If necessary, Sawyer and I will subdue the pilot. Do any of you have experience piloting a plane?"

Jack timidly raises his hand. "I've taken a couple flight lessons; honestly, it wasn't really for me."

Hurley raises his hand to interject a little common sense. "Dude, umm, if we want to talk to the pilot, then why don't we, like, knock on the door and see if he answers?"

Before Sayid can respond, the cockpit door unlocks and retracts, revealing a slightly overweight bushy grey haired pilot with his captain's shirt halfway tucked in. He looks down at the small screwdriver in Sayid's hand. "What are you group of bozos doing? Trying to break into the cockpit?" he jokes in a raspy voice.

Sayid exchanges a glance with Sawyer then places his keychain back in his pocket. "Where are you taking us?"

"I don't know, some crazy Island all of us have been to before. I'm hopin' for somethin' Caribbean, but at a bearing 305 from Sydney, it's not lookin' likely."

Sayid looks inside the cockpit and spies the radio headphones. "May I use the cockpit radio to communicate?"

"Sure, suit yourself kid," Lapidus casually grants permission. "I'm told where we're all goin', not even radio waves can reach us." Before Sayid picks up the headphones, Lapidus warns him about further radio trouble. "Oh, and you might want to try switchin' channels. Some yahoo's radioin' a bunch of numbers over the entire damn Pacific; don't know what it's all about, but he's jammin' my frequency."

Sayid places the headset on and hears the transmission. "That's odd." He switches the radio to another frequency and again hears the numbers. "The transmission is jamming several of the channels." Sayid takes the earphones off and flips a switch on the radio; the transmission of a man's voice repeating numbers sounds through a speaker in the cockpit.

"4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42 Those are the numbers, OK? 4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42 Those are the numbers! 4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42 "

"Dude, wait." Hurley widens his eyes and turns to Jack. "That kinda sounds like me!"

* * *

><p><strong>Hehe that was a fun but short chapter sorry..more coming! By the way, a little Lost trivia for my readers; in "Namaste" when the Ajira flight entered the atmosphere above the Island, you can hear the numbers being repeated on the cockpit radio.. And most Lost theorists agree, the voice sounds like Hurley's! The Lost writers inputted so much detail into scenes that they never used in the story..fortunately, that provides good materialideas for writers like me! -bobt**


	40. Numbers

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 40-  
>Numbers<strong>

_The Hydra Surveillance Room  
>1977<em>

Jack cradles the phone to his ear and asks the one question that matters. "So how do we save the Island?"

"By diffusing the Swan energy pocket, my dear," answers Mrs. Hawking. "Theresa will explain the process."

Jack kneels next to Theresa; fresh blood from her nostrils streams over her lip and down her jaw line. Her seemingly lifeless body lacks warmth; the signs of life have been reduced to erratic eye blinks and shallow breathing. "She's unconscious," he replies while feeling the weak pulse along her neck. "I'm not sure if she can hear me."

"Hello, Jack." Theresa's words carry through the phone like a voice from another world. "I can hear you just fine."

"Theresa?" Jack speaks into the phone while viewing her expressionless face below him. The experience is surreal; the phone acting as the doorway, or microphone, into her comatosed mind.

"It's really me, Jack." A chill runs down Jack's spine as he notices subtle twitching of Theresa's jaw as her voice comes through the phone. The movement of her mouth is like a robotic toy doll, but running low on battery and with a slight delay. "The instructions on how to diffuse the pocket are outlined in Daniel's journal. The most important step is ensuring all of you are brought to the Island; to do this, I need the numbers."

"Numbers?" Jack asks, looking quizzically toward Hurley.

"Yours is 23; but I need to know the rest," she further explains.

Hurley sheepishly volunteers by stepping forward; he was hoping never to speak the numbers again, but it seems there's a purpose for them after all. "Dude, she needs the numbers man. You know, the ones, like, on the hatch. The ones I won the lottery with."

Jack hands him the phone; Hurley closes his eyes and cringes, anticipating something terrible to happen after speaking what he believes to be a curse. "4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42 Those are the numbers, OK?"

* * *

><p><em>On board Oceanic 815<br>2004_

The voice of Hurley broadcasts through Oceanic 815's cockpit speaker:

_4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42  
>Those are the numbers, OK?<br>4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42  
>Those are the numbers!<br>4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42_

Hurley moves into the cockpit and reaches for a headset. "Um, it sounds like I'm a little stressed. Ok if I, like, use the radio to talk to myself?" he says with an overly dramatic gulp.

Hurley's radio voice cuts off; a deep robotic voice slowly announces another set of mysterious numbers:

_Iteration 2-9-1-8-4-5-2-7_

Sayid turns up the speaker volume and listens closely to the iteration numbers. "It's a recording. Your voice was somehow recorded and broadcast in a loop with an iteration count. It's approximately 30 seconds long." Sayid closes his eyes and whispers while crunching numbers in his head.

"Don't forget to carry the one, Chief." Sawyer leans casually against the cockpit door and listens for the next iteration count. "Hold on a second. You're telling us that robot voice is some kind of counter?" Sawyer isn't as savvy with arithmetic, but has the street sense when it comes to estimating. "That's 6 digits with a 29 in front, Ese. Twenty nine mill in terms of cash is a lot of dough. At 30 seconds for every dollar, I'm thinking years."

Sayid stops whispering numbers and opens his eyes. "Twenty seven."

Hurley's throat tightens again. "Uhm, twenty seven?" he asks, swallowing another gulp.

"Years," Sayid confirms, amazed at the length of time himself. "If the count is right, the recording of your voice has been playing over, and over, for twenty seven years."

* * *

><p><em>Shands Hospital<br>Gainesville, Fl  
>1977<em>

Young Theresa looks to Christian and gives him clear instruction. "Take the call, it's an important call."

Christian is startled as the emergency room phone mounted on the wall suddenly rings.

*ring ring* *ring ring* *ring ring* *ring ring*

A nurse walking by answers the phone. "Hello? Emergency Room." She turns to Christian and extends the phone toward him. "It's for you, Dr. Shepherd."

Young Theresa emphatically nods and points to the phone, urging Christian to answer. "Hello? This is Dr. Shepherd."

"Hello, Christian."

"Who's calling?"

"My name is Eloise." Thirty nine year old Eloise Hawking balances the phone on her shoulder while cradling her infant son in a rocking chair. "She's with you right now, isn't she?"

Christian shares a quick glance with Theresa's mother. "I'm sorry, but I'm with a patient," he hastily replies, hoping to quickly end the conversation.

"Did she say the numbers?"

Christian hides his expression of shock by turning away and covering the phone. "Excuse me?" he asks calmly.

"4-8-15-16-23-42? The numbers?"

Christian is curious to see what the caller knows. "Yes," he admits quietly.

"What about names? Did she mention Jack?"

Christian's fear concerning his son's well being resurfaces. "What is all of this concerning?" he asks, his voice trembling.

"Unfortunately, this concerns the life of your son." Baby Daniel whimpers; she places the feeding bottle to his mouth to quiet him. "And the loss of mine."

"What do you know about Jack?" he demands.

"Yesterday morning, a University of Michigan research facility intercepted a radio transmission originating from an island in the South Pacific. That transmission is of a man's voice repeating a series of numbers; the same numbers Theresa has known about for quite some time. She's a very special girl, Christian; not only does she know the future, _she's able to experience it_. She is the doorway to predetermined events involving your son and mine. Unfortunately, the condition which grants her this gift is the same condition wreaking havoc on her mind."

Christian glances back to young Theresa; her mother stays close to her side as she slips back into unconsciousness. "What can I do to help?" he asks.

"Unless she receives special medical care, Theresa will die young. Twenty seven years from now, Jack will inevitably be stranded on an island; the same island broadcasting the radio transmission. If you want your son to survive, Christian, then you must _save the girl_."


	41. Turbulence

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 41-  
>Turbulence<strong>

_Iteration 2-9-1-8-4-5-2-8_

The view from the cockpit window is something Jack hasn't experienced since the days of taking flight lessons. It's a view of nature rarely seen; an outlook as high as a mountaintop with the absence of land and civilization in all directions. Frothy waves swirl in an endless blue landscape stretching to the horizon. The sun casts a silhouette of the aircraft into the waters below, encompassed by a miniature circular rainbow. Water droplets form intermittently on the cockpit glass and quickly race off the side; a reminder the smooth flying aircraft isn't hovering at a standstill. The creepy robotic counter once again interrupts Jack's moment of peace:

_Iteration 2-9-1-8-4-5-2-9_

Sayid slips his boarding pass from his front pocket and looks it over. "I have a theory," he proposes, his mind still sharp from crunching calculations. "Pertaining to our boarding pass numbers."

Sawyer unfolds his crumpled pass and grunts his passenger number. "15."

Sayid holds up his pass and gives a subtle nod. "16."

Jack is slow to respond while admiring the cockpit view. "23."

Hurley leans against the captain's chair to keep from fainting. "Dude."

"As absurd as it sounds, the only logical conclusion to the radio transmission is; _we are the numbers_," answers Sayid.

_Iteration 2-9-1-8-4-5-3-0_

The tickling sensation on Jack's neck returns; he wipes with his arm then checks the back of his sleeve. "Damn," he remarks as he sees a streak of blood. He feels another damp tingle along his abdomen; he lifts his shirt and sees the scar from appendix surgery oozing a small dribble of blood. "What is happening to me?"

Sawyer feels something wet above his lip; he wipes the warm tingle away and sees red on his finger. "What the hell?" he curses, then shows his bloody finger to Sayid. "You might need to reevaluate your theory."

Sayid feels a dull pain along his stomach; he feels beneath his shirt and finds an open wound that wasn't there before. "I am also bleeding."

Lapidus peaks into the cockpit and sees the chaos of sudden bleeding. "Whoa! Step away from the controls, boys."

Locke rolls up to the cockpit after making his way from the rear of the plane. "Captain Lapidus; as you can see we have a situation," he says, getting the flustered captain's full attention. "As we get closer to the island, what's happening is only going to get worse. I suggest you…"

_Iteration 2-9- bzzzz 8 * 5 static*&# bzzzzz* bstatickkk!_

The aircraft suddenly jostles during an unexpected wave of turbulence. Locke slides backwards into a forming pile of falling luggage. Fortunately, the shaking lasts only a few seconds. Everyone standing close to the cockpit recovers their balance and races to the first class seats to buckle in.

Locke yanks his wheelchair free from an entanglement with a fallen suitcase. "As I was saying, this is only going to get worse," he says to the captain while straightening his wheelchair. "I suggest turning off the autopilot and taking back the controls."

Lapidus lowers his chin and cocks his left eyebrow. "Roger that."

* * *

><p><em>The Hydra surveillance room<br>1977_

Hurley catches his breath after rapidly reciting the numbers several times. "Dude, Theresa?" he says after hearing the line disconnect. "Theresa! Did you get the numbers?"

Sayid snatches the phone and places it to his ear. "Hello?" The connection reestablishes and plays Hurley's voice back to him.

_4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42  
>Those are the numbers, OK?<br>4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42  
>Those are the numbers!<br>4-8-15-16-23-42 4-8-15-16-23-42_

Followed by a robotic iteration counter:

_Iteration 1_

"Hurley's conversation is being rebroadcast in a loop. I should have known this would happen." He hangs up the phone and turns to the group to explain. "Apparently, it is the same recorder at the radio tower the French woman used to record her message 16 years ago." Sayid catches himself speaking in terms of 2004. "Correction, 11 years _from now_."

Jack feels a tickle along his neck. Sawyer; a warm wet tingle above his lip. Sayid; a burning sensation to his abdomen.

Locke observes the sudden chaos of bleeding. "Gentlemen, we're running out of time," he remarks as he tightens the straps to his backpack and heads for the door.

Sawyer raises his blood stained finger and calls out to Locke. "Where're you headin' off to?"

Locke looks back one last time before heading for the hallway exit. "James, I'm going to help Kate track down Claire. And after we find her, all of us are heading back to the main Island. Meet me at the Hydra ferry dock an hour before sundown."

Sawyer rolls his eyes and looks back to Jack. "We're all dyin' here and he still wants to save the damn Island."

"He's right, Sawyer," Jack humbly admits. He kneels next to Theresa and checks her pulse and breathing. "It's the only thing keeping us alive. If the Island goes, we go."

Sawyer pouts by crossing his arms and snorting; Jack constantly agreeing with Locke is taking a little getting used to. "What she say about saving the Island?" he grunts.

"Something about diffusing an energy pocket," Jack answers.

"Yes, of course." Sayid eyes a leather journal sitting on top a stack of books next to the control panel. "This is the same journal I used with the instructions on how to detonate the bomb." He opens the journal and skims the pages toward the back. "More of the pages are filled than before; he must have given her further instructions on how to diffuse the pocket."

"In case you don't remember, Danny boy's gone; no way he gave her those instructions," says Sawyer.

"The handwriting is the same." Sayid reads through a paragraph of instructions and a handwritten diagram. "The diagram shows a computer terminal controlling a device which will periodically diffuse the energy buildup. The device uses microwaves to reverse polarity within the pocket." Sayid looks up from the journal with a look of being overwhelmed. "I believe he wants us to build the button in the hatch."

"Uhm, what?" says Hurley

"Ain't no way!" screams Sawyer.

"Push button?" asks a confused Jin. "No!"

Jack looks to Theresa, hoping she awakens soon to clarify. He turns back to Sayid. "Do you think we can build it?"

The enormous task of building the Swan is too daunting to be excited about; Sayid slaps the journal shut and shakes his head in disappointment. "The technology at the Swan is something I've never seen before. Even with Faraday's instructions, only an experienced nuclear engineer or physicist would be able to build such a complicated device."

Sawyer stubbornly crosses his arms again. "Like I said, Danny boy ain't around anymore."

Suddenly, there's movement across one of the surveillance monitors which catches Jin's eye. Jin runs to the monitor and points. "Look!"

(to be continued!)

* * *

><p><strong>hehe sorry folks..as usual, I must leave you with a cliffhanger! bobt<strong>


	42. The Other Scientist

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 42-  
>The Other Scientist<br>**

_The Hydra  
>1977<em>

Chief scientist Stuart Radzinsky removes his hazmat gloves and unzips the backside of his protective suit. He quickly injects himself with the antidote syringe, knowing full well his exposure is putting him at risk. Several long seconds tick by as he feels the mixture of warm fluid spread throughout his veins; he exhales a sigh of relief as symptoms of the sickness cease to manifest.

It's been three weeks since the Incident and radiation levels are still dangerously high. While the rest of his Dharma colleagues fled the Island, Radzinsky stubbornly stayed behind to save his research and find a way to stabilize the Swan. He was captain of the ship; and if the Island was going down, he was going down with it.

Initially, the electromagnetism subsided after Jughead detonated. But when the energy pocket re-energized and magnetic mayhem returned, he hunkered down at the Tempest and used its built-in laboratory to test theories for solutions. After weeks of being cooped up inside a hatch, the mad scientist was reaching new levels of madness. The temptation of giving up and blowing his brains out with a shotgun grew stronger; he escaped the madness by suiting up in a hazmat suit and venturing out on his own. With radiation levels still skyrocketing, he ventured from one hatch to the next; Arrow, Orchid, Pearl, and finally across the waters to the Hydra; collecting fresh oxygen tanks and food as he went along.

He tosses the shell of his hazmat suit to the ground then notices the camera mounted on the ceiling pan in his direction. Realizing he's being watched, he grabs his rifle and runs out of the room.

* * *

><p><em>Hydra Surveillance Room<em>

Sayid slaps the journal shut and shakes his head in disappointment. "The technology at the Swan is something I've never seen before. Even with Faraday's instructions, only an experienced nuclear engineer or physicist would be able to build such a complicated device."

Sawyer stubbornly crosses his arms. "Like I said, Danny boy ain't around anymore."

Sudden movement across one of the surveillance monitors catches Jin's eye. He runs to the monitor and points. "Look!" A rough bearded man tosses a hazmat suit to the ground.

Sawyer instantly recognizes the peculiar man wearing thick glasses and a grey Dharma jumpsuit. "Oh hell, we got trouble," Sawyer grumbles.

Jack squints at the grainy image of the man in the monitor. "Who is he?"

"It's Radzinsky." Sawyer rotates a control knob to pan the camera towards him. "He's the Dharma geek livin' out at the Flame. Smart as hell, like Faraday; but a major pain in my ass."

Radzinsky sees the camera rotate toward him and realizes he's being watched. He grabs his rifle and runs out of the camera view.

"The geek's got a gun." Sawyer reaches underneath the control panel desk and finds a pistol hidden inside a mounted holster. "And so do I." He checks the casing for bullets then waves his hand to signal for Jin's assistance. "Come on, Jin. Let's round up Radzinsky."

Jack pleads with them as they race for the door. "We need him alive, Sawyer!"

Sawyer pauses before leaving. "I'm not gunnin' for him, but if he pulls the trigger first, I won't hold back." He cocks the pistol and checks the chamber for a bullet. "In case you don't remember, Doc; this whole damn mess is his fault. He kept that drill goin' at the Swan and ruined the Island."

"I know," Jack nods in agreement then points to the open journal in Sayid's hand. "But he might be the only one who understands how to save it."

* * *

><p><em>Outside the Hydra<em>

Jin and Sawyer take cover behind a large boulder as Radzinsky returns fire. "Hold your fire!" yells Sawyer. "We just want to talk!" Sawyer peaks his head up and down to get a quick look; a bullet grazes the boulder showering him and Jin with a spray of powdered rock.

"You're a liar, Lafluer!" he replies cocking his rifle and aiming. "You and the rest of your friends were hostiles this entire time!"

"Do we look like granola-eatin'-potato-sack wearin'-tree huggers to you?" Sawyer belches with sarcasm. "We're not hostiles, dummy!"

Radzinsky crawls forward on his chest and steadies the aim of his rifle. "Then who are you?"

The grass suddenly crackles next to Radzinsky's shoulder. He takes his eye off the rifle sight and looks to his right; a Middle Eastern man wearing black military boots stands confidently poised. "We are from the future," says Sayid. He reaches down and quickly confiscates the rifle.

Radzinsky adjusts his glasses and instantly recognizes the man who knew the name of the Swan before he told anybody about it. "You!"

"Yes, it is me," Sayid coolly responds.

Radzinsky gets up from the ground and brushes the grass and dirt off his chest. "If you're really from the future, then prove it."

Sayid reaches for the physics journal tucked in the waistline of his pants. "Twenty seven years from now, my friends and I will crash on this Island in an airliner flying from Sydney to Los Angeles. During our stay here, we will live in a hatch and operate a device which continuously diffuses the energy pocket at the Incident site." Sayid opens the journal to the page explaining the diffusion process.

Radzinsky reads through the instructions and drops his jaw in amazement. "Who drew these diagrams?" he demands.

"Daniel Faraday," answers Sayid.

"Faraday? The scientist from Michigan?"

Jin and Sawyer are relieved to see Sayid has disarmed him, and come out from hiding. "Believe me now, Einstein?" yells Sawyer as he gets closer.

Radzinsky nods as he turns the page. "Dark matter isotope accumulation. Periodically diffuse energy pocket by remote terminal," he mumbles beneath his breath.

"The device uses microwaves to reverse polarity," Sayid interjects.

"Genius," says Radzinsky.

Sawyer looks over to Jin and rolls his eyes. "Ok, 'nuff of the geek fest." He puts his pistol on safety and tucks it securely in his jeans. "Now let's go save the Island."


	43. Losing Theresa

x  
>x<p>

**-Chapter 43-  
>Losing Theresa<strong>

_Hydra Surveillance Room_

Sawyer cocks the pistol and checks the chamber for a bullet. "In case you don't remember, Doc; this whole damn mess is his fault. He kept that drill goin' at the Swan and ruined the Island."

"I know," Jack nods in agreement then points to the open journal in Sayid's hand. "But he might be the only one who understands how to save it."

Sawyer and Jin race after Radzinsky while Sayid, Hurley, and Jack stay behind. Theresa remains unconscious; her eyelids are resting and her breathing barely noticeable. Her head rolls awkwardly and touches the surveillance room floor. Jack kneels and carefully rearranges the towel underneath to reform the cushion.

Hurley looks down and tilts his head sideways. "Dude, do you think she's ever gonna wake up?"

Jack bows his head and massages his forehead; his kneeling stance next to her resembles a prayer. "I don't know." His answer is soft and hesitant. He's holding to hope but his body language communicates a different answer. Delivering news about a dying patient was never difficult at the hospital; but Jack has changed so much after coming back to the Island, and Theresa being the one bringing them there makes her very special.

While resting her head back on the towel, he discovers an odd clump of thickened skin at the base of her neck. He turns her head to the side then traces his fingers along the line of raised purplish tissue.

Sayid steps closer out of curiosity. "What's wrong Jack?"

Jack blinks rapidly while examining. "It's a surgical scar." He parts the hair along the back of her head to check the length of the incision. "Posterior Discectomy. I've performed dozens of these."

Hurley gulps as he gets a full view of the Frankenstein-like surgical mark. He's seen head scars on patients in the mental institution before; the kind of patients who always gave him the creeps. "Uhh, what do you think was wrong with her?"

Jack shrugs his shoulders. "Anything from neck pain to a tumor."

Theresa's eyelids suddenly twitch; she gasps for a breath and struggles to voice her words. "You saved me, Jack; and now, he will save you," her whisper fades to unintelligible mumbles. "Your Father…"

Jack tightens his grasp to her shoulder. "My Father?" He leans an ear against her lips as she exhales her final words.

* * *

><p><em>Outside the Hydra<em>

Sawyer puts his pistol on safety and tucks it securely in his jeans. "Now let's go save the Island."

Suddenly, a swift breeze rustles the surrounding trees as a large cloud passes in front of the sun. Sawyer glances up at the forming storm. "Let's hightail it to the Ferry before the storm rolls in." He looks back to the woods expecting Jack, Hurley, and Jin to come out of hiding. "Where's everyone else?"

Sayid clears his throat to deliver the grim news. "The woman Theresa; unfortunately, she never recovered. Jack and Hurley said they will meet us at the Ferry. They're burying her body next to the dock."

Sawyer drops his head and kicks the grass. Without saying a word, he turns abruptly and walks back toward the Hydra Station. The stormy breeze picks up again; a bolt of lightning flashes in the distance.

"Where are you going?" Sayid calls out.

"I need to bury someone too."

* * *

><p><em>On board Oceanic 815<br>2004_

The seat belt sign chimes as the airliner rumbles through a batch of steady turbulence. Hurley nervously peers out the window toward the darkened clouds. "Dudes, I think we're like, flying into a storm."

Despite the steady jostling, Locke nonchalantly rolls up the aisle in his wheelchair and parks next to Hurley. "We'll be OK, Hugo. Sometimes it's necessary to go through the storm to make it to the other side."

His nose and pudgy cheeks form a wrinkled disapproving expression. "You're crazy dude."

Locke grins. "I know."

Suddenly, Captain Lapidus makes an announcement over the intercom. "Hold on folks. We'll be changing direction a bit to get around this crazy storm. In the meantime, keep those seatbelts buckled!"

Locke straightens his wheelchair to roll forward. "I'll be right back." He wheels all the way up the aisle and knocks on the cockpit door; Lapidus opens it and quickly returns to his controls. "Yeah, what do you want, Johny?" he yells as he steadies the controls. "I thought I said fasten your seat belts!"

"Captain Lapidus, I advise keeping the controls forward. There's no telling where we will end up if we take a detour."

"I'll tell you where!" Lapidus looks over his shoulder and cocks an eyebrow. "In the damn Pacific, that's where!"

Locke enters the cockpit until the wheels of his wheelchair are obstructed from rolling further. He dials down his voice to emphasize his sincerity. "Captain, I'm asking you to trust me. Stay on course and everything will be OK."

* * *

><p><em>Hydra Island<br>A grassy area next to the Ferry Dock_

Jin, Sayid, Radzinsky, and Hurley stand close by as Jack shovels the last layer of dirt over Theresa's grave. Hurley kneels and places a makeshift cross made of two sticks into the soft soil. The impending storm eerily darkens the skies and its winds rattle the leaves of palm trees close by.

Sayid opens his eyes after a brief moment of Muslim meditation. "She spoke about your Father. I was unable to hear her final words. Would you mind sharing with us what she said?"

Jack stands the shovel into the ground then rubs his hands together to shake off the lose dirt. "John Locke," he says with a subtle nod.

Sayid shares a confusing glance with Hurley then looks back to Jack. "I beg your pardon?"

Jack stares blankly at the fresh grave. "She told me to _follow John Locke_."

Suddenly, a boom of thunder sounds and the powerful storm unleashes a torrent of rain. The spray of drops creates a machine gun pattern of pockmarks into the thin soil of the fresh grave. Everybody stands still after being captured in the moment; the wet blast like jumping into a refreshing pool of cold water.

Hurley watches the water collect in his hands and run down his arms. And just as sudden as it started, the rain ceases. The bright sun glistens off the blades of wet grass and quickly warms the air around them into a tropical sauna.

The vegetation in the woods behind them crackles from approaching footsteps. John Locke suddenly emerges, with Kate following closely behind.

"Woah," says Hurley, caught holding his hands out to catch the rain.

Locke grins and smugly crosses his arms. "Storm's over, Hugo."


	44. Follow Me

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**-Chapter 44-  
>Follow Me<br>**

"Storm's over, Hugo."

Jack anxiously scans the woods behind them, hoping Claire emerges from the bushes next. The rustling of vegetation ceases; his heart drops in his chest as he realizes nobody else is coming. "Where is she?"

"She got away, Jack." Locke drops his head and sulks in disappointment like a huntsman coming back from a day of hunting empty handed. Game tracking are both his and Kate's area of expertise, but clever Claire outsmarted them both by backtracking and creating multiple trails. "By the time we found the right trail, she was gone."

Jack continues to scan the woods for movement; he's determined not to lose his sister for a second time. "Maybe we can find her if all of us spread out."

Locke shakes his head and points toward the beach. "Her trail ended at the shoreline." He raises his arm slightly to point across the sea to the main island. "Kate and I believe she swam to the main Island."

The group turns and looks out across the ocean; the long distance blurs the features of the Island's mountainous terrain. Hurley squints and gauges the expanse of ocean. "Dude; no way she swam all the way across man."

"Do not underestimate her, Hugo. She's survived on the Island longer than any of us."

Locke slips his backpack down one shoulder then grabs his water bottle from a side pocket. A quick douse to the back of his throat relieves the buildup of thirst from the long hours of trekking. "The good news is; at least she's headed to where we're going." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then passes the water bottle to Kate. "The bad news; it's a bigger Island."

Radzinsky uses his shirt to wipe the steam off his glasses. He's never been introduced to the rugged bald man who came out of the woods. "You must be John Locke," he quickly surmises.

"I am," Locke states proudly. "Who are you?"

"I'm the only one here from Dharma, which means I'm in charge, _and you're not_." His condescending introduction places Locke on the defensive.

Locke holds a hand outward to gesture peaceful intentions. "Hey, I don't know you, but if you want to be part of this group, I suggest try being a servant rather than demand to be in charge."

"You listen to me, you idiot!" Radzinsky whips out Daniel's journal and opens to a page of quantum mechanics. "The only person qualified to lead this group is somebody that understands these equations!" Radzinsky's face reddens in anger; his glasses fog over again from his hot breathe and rising body temperature. "And I don't assume you, nor anybody else here, has the IQ to understand nuclear physics, which leaves me to be the one in charge in building the device to discharge the energy pocket!"

Locke holds up his hand to put a stop to his arrogant rant. He turns to Sayid for help in scientific translation. "Discharge an energy pocket?" he asks squinty eyed.

"He is correct." Sayid nods to affirm his confidence in the scientist's assessment. "The only way we can save the Island is to build a device which periodically discharges the energy pocket at the incident site. The same device, twenty seven years from now, we will operate by pushing a sequence of six numbers into a computer terminal."

"Numbers into a computer terminal?" Locke squeezes his chin and chuckles as if Sayid was joking. "You're telling me the only answer to saving the Island is to build the button?" His hand migrates up from his chin to cover his sneering grin.

"I'm sorry, but I do not find this amusing," Sayid replies.

"Pathetic." Locke whispers and points an accusing finger to Sayid. "I'm disappointed in you." He raises his voice and swivels his pointing finger to everyone else in the group. "I'm disappointed in all of you."

"I don't understand. We have a plan to save the Island," Sayid replies coolly.

Locke points the finger to himself and taps the center of his chest. "I didn't bring all of you back to the Island to be button pushers. We already did our time in the hatch, and you want to do it all over again?" Locke positions himself on higher ground; the group encircles him and fixates on his every word. "The button was Dharma's version of a band-aid. It didn't fix anything; it only prolonged the problem. It's 1977, and we have a chance to change the history of this Island as we know it. I prefer the coming version of history not having a hatch with a button." His words inspire them to hope there's a better solution then building a chamber underground that did nothing but imprison them.

"So what is your plan?" asks Sayid.

Locke shrugs his shoulders and continues his typical vague Island saving semantics. "I don't have a plan, except for getting every one of you back to the main Island and to the site of the Incident. Once we're there, I believe we'll know what to do next."

"I see; and what do you suppose will happen next?" asks Sayid, his inflection peppered with sarcasm.

Locke approaches Sayid and places a hand to his shoulder. He lowers his voice to just above a whisper. "Once we save the Island, _the Island will save us_."

Suddenly, the bushes rustle at the wood's edge once again. Sawyer emerges with Juliet's body wrapped in a white sheet and resting on his shoulder.

Locke squeezes Sayid's shoulder and gives him a wink. "Not only will the Island save us, but Juliet, Charlie, Boone, Eko; all of our friends who died here by merging this world and the world which you and I came from."

"The world you came from?" Radzinsky steps on to the grassy high ground Locke vacated. "What the hell do you think this is? An episode of Star Trek?" Radzinsky pulls a radiation sensor from his pocket and turns the knob to the volume. The display screen shows erratic waves of dangerous electromagnetic activity. The sounds of radioactive ticking emanate from its tiny speaker. "Hear this? That's the sound of exotic plasma radiation still being released from the incident site! When we reach the main Island, it will be a thousand times stronger! At the Incident site; over a million times stronger!" He opens the journal and raises it above his head. "Using Faraday's instructions, I will construct a microwave pulsator to cancel the radiation to create a zone of safety then use it to stabilize the Swan site!" He points to Theresa's fresh grave for emphasis; his glasses steam over as his anger rises. "So if you don't want to end up like your lady friend in the ground, I suggest you follow me and do as I say!"

Radzinsky's enthusiasm captures their attention; his scientific knowledge and promise of creating a zone of safety gives him an edge in leading the group. Locke steps to the grassy knoll to compete again for recruits. The radiation sensor beeps faster as Locke approaches. A perplexed Radzinsky holds the sensor to Locke's head, making the device go haywire. "Impossible," he remarks as he reads the dangerous levels of electromagnetic activity. "You should be dead."

"Your knowledge of science can sometimes cloud your vision." Locke smiles and turns off the noisy irritating device. "What is impossible is made possible in this place."

Sawyer enters the circle of the group without saying a word. He gently lays the lifeless body of Juliet to the grass then unwraps the sheet for everyone to see her face. She's peaceful with eyes closed; her golden blonde hair spreads angelically across the ground. Her composure reminds Sawyer of times he's watched her sleeping. The group tightens the circle to comfort Sawyer and to say their final goodbyes. Sawyer kneels by her side and places a diamond ring on her finger; the ring he secretly bought for their engagement, but never had the chance to propose with.

"Hello, James." Locke yanks the shovel from its anchor in the soft ground. Sawyer grabs the wooden handle; Locke keeps a firm grip and doesn't let go.

Sawyer straightens his posture and gives a threatening glance. "Gimmee the damn shovel," he grumbles.

Locke releases it with hesitancy. "We don't have time for this," he says boldly but callously.

"I'm burying her whether you like it or not," Sawyer gripes back, taking the shovel with an unnecessary yank.

Locke walks ahead and kneels in the grass; he grabs Juliet's stiffened hand and slips off the diamond ring.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sawyer tosses the shovel to free his fists to fight.

"I'm doing you a favor." Locke approaches confidently with hands down, willing to take a punch without retaliation.

Sawyer bumps him chest to chest and cocks back his fist. Locke raises the ring in the small space between them. "James, I promise; you will see her again." His words disarm him. Sawyer can no longer maintain his menacing stare; his eyes gravitate toward the sparkling jewel. He unclenches his fist and reaches for the ring.

Locke smiles and surrenders it willingly. "Trust me," he requests softly.

Locke straightens the straps to his backpack and leaves the circle of onlookers. He climbs the ramp leading up to the ferry then turns back before boarding. "Follow me."


	45. Crossing Over

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**-Chapter 45-  
>Crossing Over<br>**

"Follow me."

Sawyer takes a knee next to Juliet and fights back the tears. He gazes into the sparkling diamond while mulling over Locke's plea to leave her without a funeral.

Jack consoles him with a mild squeeze to his shoulder. "We'll wait for you. You don't have to leave her like this, Sawyer."

Sawyer slips the ring back into his pocket and pulls the sheet to cover her face. "I buried my folks when I was young; what's done is done." He pushes down on his kneecap to stand while keeping his eyes fixated on the soft silhouette veiled behind the thin sheet. "Putting her underground won't put her out of my mind." Sawyer gives a cold squinted stare back at Locke standing at the top of the ferry ramp. His emotions are mixed; Locke always comes down hard on his friends to get his point across, but in the end his intentions have always been for the greater good. "If what he's saying is true, what's done isn't set in stone. I gotta take that chance, Doc. I'll do anything to see Juliet again." He feels a tickle in his nostril; he wipes the blood with his finger and holds it up to the sunlight. "If Locke's in a hurry, there's gotta be a good reason."

Radzinsky waves his hand to call Locke off the ferry. "Hey, you! Get back down here! We can't take the ferry because we have to conserve gas! We'll need every drop if we ever have to use the ferry to leave the Island!"

Locke descends the ramp and rejoins the group to discuss options. He shields his eyes from the bright sun then looks out across the waters. "What do you have in mind, besides swimming?"

Radzinsky searches the palmetto bushes at the back edges of the shoreline. He stomps his feet to flatten the leaves, looking for clues of something hidden.

Sawyer follows him and shuffles the bushes searching for anything man made or out of place. "What are you searchin' for? Some kind of tunnel?"

"No, you idiot!" Radzinsky moves deeper into the bushes then kicks something that sounds like a hollow piece of wood.

Sayid studies the vegetation and sees the curved edge of a wooden structure. "What is it?"

Radzinsky lifts a layer of camouflage netting revealing a pair of outrigger canoes. "The hostiles use them to cross back and forth."

Locke wrestles the remainder of the camo-netting off the outriggers like a little boy unwrapping a new toy Christmas morning. He grabs a paddle and looks to his friends. "Let's get them into the water, everyone. It's time to cross over."

* * *

><p>They divide up equally into the two canoes; the faster one with Jack, Kate, Radzinsky, and Jin; the other, Sawyer, Sayid, Locke, and Hurley, whose weight accounts for two people. The journey is pleasant and swift through the calm waters of the Pacific. The hue seen below the wooden hulls slowly transitions from dark to lighter blue. Small waves break ashore as they reach the shallow waters surrounding the main Island. Jack steps overboard as they reach waist depth and pulls his outrigger until it rubs across the soft sand. Hurley abandons early and swims for it, making it easier for Sawyer to drag the other. Both outriggers skid to a stop at the beach edge; everyone works together to drag them out of the surf and into the tree shade.<p>

Radzinsky pulls out his monitoring device to check radiation levels. "OK people! We need to get to the nearest hatch to collect supplies and take cover from radiation exposure!"

The group turns to Locke to see if he objects. "Fine with me; as long as we're moving closer to the source." Locke eyes a beaten path through an opening in the woods; he's explored the Island more than anyone and seems to recall where the trail should lead. "Follow me. This path should take us to the Pearl."

They leave the beach and follow the steep path up a ridge. The climb in elevation brings them just above eye level of the beach side trees, providing an overlook back to Hydra Island. Sawyer borrows a water bottle from Locke's pack and rests a moment to enjoy the view. He takes a swig and spots peculiar activity in the waters they just came from. "What the hell?" he points to one of their outriggers being paddled out to sea.

The group turns to see what the ruckus is. A furious Radzinsky cocks his rifle and storms back toward the beach. "Those damn Hostiles! They're stealing our outrigger!" Sayid, Kate, Jin, and Jack drop their packs and follow from behind. Hurley doesn't bother; he knows he'll only slow down the pursuit.

Sawyer takes one last sip from the water bottle and turns to Locke before leaving. "You coming?"

Locke raises a pair of binoculars and adjusts the focus. "I would stay clear of the beach because there's about to be a shootout." He turns to Sawyer while keeping his elbows level and steady. "And the blonde in the canoe is as sharp as a sniper."

Locke smirks. Sawyer has a personal moment of sudden revelation. "Gimmee those!" he demands. He rips the binoculars out of Locke's grasp and fumbles the eyepiece adjustment. A familiar blonde comes into view. "Juliet?" He pans to view the rest of the outrigger passengers and sees a familiar bald man, ginger, asian, geek, and a flannel wearing cowboy with long bangs. "What the hell? That's us!"

Hurley raises his hand to block the sun and fixates on the runaway canoe which is now just a floating dot in the distance. "Dude, what do you mean that's us?"

"Not you, Hugo; those of us who stayed behind on the Island," Locke explains. "We were in a rush and needed a canoe, which ironically we now just gave to ourselves. The Island has a way in bringing things around. "

Hurley lowers his hand from blocking the sun; the lines of his forehead wrinkle downward between his squinted eyes. "So, how did all of you appear here, now?"

Sawyer lowers the binoculars after getting his last possible glimpse of Juliet; the outrigger has drifted too far from view. "We were all over the place; 1950s, 2004, ancient times, the future. We watched the Orchid disappear in front of our eyes; that's when Locke dropped down the well and fixed things. After that, we were stuck in 1974."

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings readers! I'm sure you remember the infamous outrigger scene. If you want to revisit it, it's Season5Ep4 "The Little Prince" at 26 minutes. To qualify again, my story is far from being Canon, the actual outrigger scene had to have taken place after 2007 since the beach camp was on the beach and in ruins, but I thought it provided a cool twist to my story… so just pretend for this story's sake that the flashing Losties appeared for a brief moment in 1977… I must say, this chapter is a milestone since the Losties have finally made it back to the main Island…well, at least the Losties in the original timeline (wink, wink).. More to come! -bobt<strong>


	46. Paddle Fever

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**-Chapter 46-  
>Paddle Fever<br>**

Radzinsky and Jack scoot the second outrigger into a calm tidal pool away from the rushing surf. Jack pushes it out to sea as everyone grabs a paddle and nestles into the wooden hull. He trudges the water until he's waist deep then pulls himself on board; Sayid helps him to his knees and maneuver upright.

The outrigger they're pursuing is deceptively close. It's already cleared the surf they're currently battling against; no matter how hard they paddle, they're being outpaced. By the time they pass over the last swell, the mystery people in the outrigger are too far for conversation.

They venture further after them. The sounds of beach crashing waves diminish to ambient background noise, replaced by the rhythmic swooshes of immersing paddles. Radzinsky pushes up his glasses to gauge the disappointing distance. "Those damn hostiles, they think everything on this Island belongs to them!"

Sayid's soldier physique allows him to effortlessly row and have conversation. "Wooden outrigger canoes seem to be lacking the modern conveniences of the Dharma Initiative. I suppose they actually do belong to the Others."

Radzinsky lifts his paddle momentarily to grab an extra breath to argue. "Why do you keep calling the hostiles 'Others'? And yes, they probably did build the canoes, but you can't just take them because they're sitting on the beach somewhere!"

Sayid reacts snippily to his irrational logic. "I beg your pardon, but isn't that what we did when we took them from Hydra Island?"

Radzinsky finds his self serving logic perfectly reasonable. "Anything on Hydra Island belongs to the Dharma Initiative, Ok! That's part of the pact we have with the Hostiles!"

Sayid slows his paddling and turns back to look him in the eye. "You actually have a pact with the people you refer to as 'hostiles'? How diplomatic of you."

Those paddling left side paddle faster to compensate for Sayid's lack of attention. "You guys! Stop bickering and use your energy to paddle!" yells Kate from the back of the canoe.

Jack digs in his paddle and gives two quick heaves. He looks up hoping they're closing in but quickly gets discouraged by their lack of progress. "I don't think we can catch them. They're paddling faster than us."

Radzinsky pulls out his rifle and cocks back the chamber. "Who says we have to catch them?" He steadies the rifle against his shoulder and aims. "Ok, hold the boat steady people. Hopefully I can pick them off one by one!"

Jin refrains from paddling and pleas with him to put the gun down. "No! Why shoot?"

Sayid paddles calmly and restarts the bickering in an effort to distract him. "Let me remind you, it is just a canoe we are after. What kind of pact do you have with these people?"

Radzinsky ignores the question; his disdain for the people he was forced to share the island with is clouding his judgment. He fires off multiple shots. Everyone forward of the rifle ducks for cover inside the hull. Jack covers his ears and voices his concern between shots. "Be careful! They might shoot back at us!"

Radzinsky stubbornly keeps the rifle pointed and set to shoot. "What are they going to do? Shoot us with flaming arrows? The Hostiles don't use guns! They hate technology!"

Suddenly, gun fire erupts from the other outrigger. Radzinsky flinches and loses aim; he sits up taller to get off a clearer shot. "Son of a bitch! They're shooting at us! Die hostiles, die!"

Before he has a chance to return fire, the third bullet lands a direct hit to his chest. He clutches his heart and manages one last shot before collapsing into the water. Jack leans overboard and pulls him back in. "No! Radzinsky!"

In the midst of the chaos, a man's voice yells out from the other outrigger as if they were celebrating for hitting the target. "Thank you, Lord!" Suddenly, the outrigger and its crew vanish into thin air.

"Where did they go?" Kate scans the waters in search of the missing outrigger. "Did you just see that?

Jin looks in every direction in case they became disoriented. "Gone?"

Sayid retracts his paddle and places it comfortably across his thighs. "Whoever they are, they're no longer here. And the outrigger seems to have vanished with them."

Jack rips open Radzinsky's shirt and examines the wound. It's a direct hit to the heart; his breathing ceases as the gushing blood pools along the canoe bottom. Jack looks up; his troubled expression is enough to tell the group there's no hope for the mad scientist. "Our problem is much bigger than a missing outrigger."

* * *

><p>They paddle back toward the Island at a meagerly pace, returning from their pursuit defeated and empty handed. The choppy waves batter the side of the canoe, creating a salty mist which stings their eyes and parches their throats. A feeling of hopelessness sets in; their efforts to save the island has now been severely hampered by the loss of the hatch building scientist. In the end, the driving force behind their pursuit was Radzinsky's hatred for the Others, which ironically resulted in his death from a rifle wielded by the only Other in the boat.<p>

Sayid steers the craft across a cresting wave and catches a ride to shore. Sawyer wades into the surf to help and sees Jack holding Radzinsky with a blood stained hole to the chest. "You need me to carry him to shore so you can work on him, Doc?"

Jack shakes his head and lifts the lifeless corpse over his shoulder. "He's gone, Sawyer." He carries him to the back of beach and lays him beneath the shade of the trees.

Locke comes over to assess the damage. "The Island didn't need him, Jack. Let's stick to the original plan."

"Plan?" The veins of his neck pulsate and flush his face to a fiery red. "_He was the plan!_ He's the only one that knew how to build the button!"

Locke shakes his head and glances down in disappointment. He and Jack were in full agreement about saving the Island until Radzinsky joined the group; and now that he's gone, Jack has forgotten the importance of everyone else being alive. "All of us are still together and alive, Jack. We can find a way."

"But how?" Jack's voice steadily gains volume.

Locke gently squeezes his shoulder and guides him further into the woods away from the beach; he prefers their conversation be in private in case it becomes heated. "I need you to trust me, Jack." He stands closer and speaks just above a whisper. "The plan is; we go to the source. That's where it started, and that's where it will stop. Listen to me carefully. The group you were chasing in the outrigger; that was me; that was Sawyer; Juliet; Miles, Daniel, Charlotte. We were taking the outrigger around the island so we could make our way to the Orchid. That's where the source was last time, and I was able to save everybody, and bring all of you back."

Locke turns to rejoin the group and leaves Jack to cool off by himself in the woods. Jack calls out as he's walking away. "And what did you find at the Orchid, John?"

Locke brashly answers without facing back. "I already told you, Jack. You didn't believe me."

The words of his suicide note are enough to set Jack off. "No! You never told me anything!"

"Oh yes! Yes, I did!" Locke drops his pack to the ground as if he were preparing to fight. He rushes toward Jack with his index finger poised to lecture. He bites his lip before speaking and constrains himself again to just above a whisper. "There was a man waiting for me; he said his name was _Christian_. He told me what I needed to do, and I did it. The place below the Orchid was a very ancient place; long before the Dharma Initiative, or the Others and their outrigger canoes. There was a mechanism; a wooden wheel embedded into a wall of rock. What the Dharma Initiative is looking for, what Stuart Radzinsky was searching for; it's already been found and harnessed by people, maybe thousands of years ago." Locke brushes the leaves off his pack and slings it back over his shoulder. "We don't need a button to fix this, Jack. We just need to rediscover what's already been found."


	47. The Man Beneath

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**-Chapter 47-  
>The Man Beneath<strong>

Sawyer wades into the surf to help those returning from the outrigger. He sees Jack holding Radzinsky with a blood stained hole to the chest. "You need me to carry him to shore so you can work on him, Doc?"

"He's gone, Sawyer." Jack hoists the lifeless corpse over his shoulder and carries it to a tree shaded area at the back of the beach.

Sawyer steadies the outrigger for Jin, Sayid, and Kate to step overboard. They're exhausted from the failed pursuit, their droopy faces branded from the hot sun. The decision to go after the outrigger was purely reactive. They followed Radzinsky blindly, without thinking; each falling victim to assuming he was the right one to lead because he engineered the button. They've seen the future; the hatch, the button, and most importantly; the failsafe which ultimately made the Swan site entirely inert. Radzinsky created the world they've experienced. He was the safe bet. Whatever happened, happened. Whatever will happen, will happen. Locke voiced his disappointment in all of them for this, and now they're left with no choice but to believe him instead.

Sawyer secures Kate's balance by holding her forearm as she steps off the outrigger. The sunburn across her face accentuates the light brown speckles along the ridge of her nose. "Hey Freckles," he greets her with his cowboy suave. His nickname calling has settled to an innocent charm; their relationship status like former high school sweethearts who have since matured and moved on.

"Hey," she responds with a glow, thankful to be back on dry land.

All of them work together to pull the outrigger to the backside of the beach in the shade, next to the dead body Jack placed in the sand. They can hear Jack and Locke speaking to each other back in the woods, working out their issues alone and away from the group.

An eerie sound of muffled static emanates from Radzinsky's Dharma work pants. Sayid kneels to investigate and finds the radiation sensor in his pocket which apparently became switched on by accident. He checks the other pocket and finds Daniel's journal. "Faraday's instructions; they could still be useful," he shows the group and secures them both in the pockets of his cargo pants.

Sawyer stares at the bloody corpse coldly, without remorse, relieved the mad man's days are already over. The scientist's eyes remain wide open, magnified behind his thick glasses; an expression of shock frozen in time. Sawyer thinks back to his experience being chased in the outrigger; a warped sense of satisfaction emerges as he realizes it was Juliet who outgunned the other gunman.

_He tells Juliet he encountered Kate delivering Claire's baby on the Island, just before the sky flashed. _

"_That was two months ago," she figures._

"_Yeah, time travel's a bitch," he responds jokingly._

_Suddenly, shots fire from another outrigger they didn't realize was in their pursuit._

"_Get down!"_

"_Paddle!" Sawyer shouts to the group. He's at the rear of the canoe which means he's first in the line of fire. A close shot whizzes by and shatters a hole in his paddle. "Little help! Little help!" he yells in a panic. Juliet courageously exchanges her paddle for the rifle._

_Click-Click KAPOW! KAPOW!_

_On the third shot, her aim was right on target._

_KAPOW!_

The imaginary sound of gunshot wakes Sawyer from the daydream. He can no longer repress the smile. "Juliet," he murmurs softly to himself.

Kate overhears and smiles back at him. "What are you daydreaming about?"

Sawyer flips back his bangs from his eyes, his expression more serious. "Did you see the outrigger disappear?"

"Yeah." His question confirms what she saw but also catches her off guard. "Did you see it disappear from the beach?" she asks confused, her freckles bunched together.

Sawyer reveals his time traveling secret. "I was there, Kate. That was me in the other outrigger, closest to the back." He glances down again at Radzinsky's bloodied corpse. "Juliet used her rifle to take him out."

"Wait a minute; _Juliet?_ That was _you _we were chasing?" she replies with her eyes open even wider than before, waiting for the punch line to an attempted joke. Jin and Sayid perk their ears and come closer to hear the conversation.

Sawyer nods. "Me, Locke, Juliet, and the rest of us who got left behind on the Island. Every time the sky flashed, we found ourselves in another time period. We borrowed the outrigger so we could take a shortcut to the Orchid. But when we got there, sky already flashed like three or four times and the Orchid station didn't exist yet. That's when Locke climbed down the well and fixed things himself."

Sayid holds up the sensor and reads the radiation levels. "Unfortunately, levels are still rising. I hope Locke knows how to fix the Island again."

Suddenly, the Man of Science vs. Man of Faith conversation in the woods becomes heated. Sawyer, Kate, Hurley, and Jin enter the jungle and race towards them in case they need to break up the fight. Sawyer's the first to approach and overhears the last bit of their conversation, including something about a man waiting for Locke beneath the Orchid.

Locke picks his pack off the ground and brushes off the leaves. "We don't need a button to fix this, Jack. We just need to rediscover what's already been found."

The moment remains tense even as Locke turns to walk away. Sawyer interrupts with a question of his own. "Who the hell is Christian?"

Locke stays quiet, hoping Jack volunteers first to clarify who the mysterious man is. Jack instead crosses his arms and chuckles nervously; this time he's not willing to confess. The third day after the plane crash was enough embarrassment for him; he remembers seeing his father clearly, wearing suit and tie and staring back at him down the beach. He asked Kate if she saw him; she looked at him like he was crazy. From that point on, the chase began. But he wanted it to be his own chase, going after his own white rabbit. The memory of his father was his own burden to carry; besides, most everyone in the group had their own daddy issues; Sawyer, Kate, Locke, Claire; none of their issues were being exposed. Jack was feeling picked on by the Island since the beginning, and Locke being able to see him was that much more painful.

Locke answers the question as best he can without going into the details of Jack's father. "He's somebody who speaks for Jacob, and I'm not the only one here who has seen him before on this Island." He takes a quick sip from his water bottle then slides the straps of his backpack in place. "Time to go; let's get back on the trail and find your packs, then head toward the Swan."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Jack remarks with defiance. He's still unsettled about losing Radzinsky and not having a solid plan. "I'm staying here to bury Radzinsky's body and set up camp for tonight."

The tension between them returns and so does the frustration across Locke's face. He believed Radzinsky's death would reestablish his role, but Jack seems to be wavering even more. "Fine. Stay here. Bury the body. Set up camp and have a cozy campfire. The rest of us have work to do, Jack."

Sawyer steps in between them to ease the tension. "You all can go on ahead. I'll stay back with the Doc and help bury the body. We'll catch up after we're done," he says with a wink to Locke.

"Fine; but there's no guarantee I'm coming back for you." Locke impatiently walks off into the woods; Kate, Sayid, Hurley, and Jin follow him one by one, slightly pausing and making eye contact with Jack and Sawyer before leaving, hoping this isn't their final good bye.

* * *

><p>Jack and Sawyer use the outrigger paddles to dig a shallow grave into the soft forest ground. The shaded area between beach and jungle is reminiscent of their original beach camp. "We've had a lot of funerals here on the Island," says Sawyer, remembering the beach side cemetery next to their camp.<p>

"Yeah," says Jack, huffing hard while exerting all his energy into every scoop of dirt.

Sawyer steps back to take a break, hoping Jack might do the same. "So why are you having another one?"

Jack pauses to catch his breath to speak. "Another funeral?" he asks with a quick exhale.

"Yeah, funeral." Sawyer crosses his legs and nonchalantly leans on his paddle for support.

Jack keeps digging, but slows his pace enough to respond. "To bury the reasons I thought I was here, I guess." Jack speeds up his shoveling pace again.

Sawyer shovels again along side of him; he figures Jack's half hearted answer is all he's going to get out of him for now. "I buried my folks when I was a young. What's done is done."

Jack suddenly stops shoveling and steps out of the hole. He clears the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm while gazing into the thick jungle. "My father died in Sydney. His coffin was on the plane so I never got to bury him." He turns back to Sawyer; the time is right to share the weight of his burden. "Three days after the crash, I saw him on the Island." Jack bows his head and pokes the ground with the paddle. "I chased him through the jungle for hours. That was the night I found the fresh water at the caves."

Sawyer stays inside the shallow hole after hearing the eerie rustling of trees deep within the jungle. "Seeing ghosts, Doc?"

Jack shrugs his shoulders and looks Sawyer squarely in the eye. "Christian; the man beneath the Orchid that spoke with Locke; he's my father."

"What?" Sawyer gasps.

Jack nods and bows his head again so he doesn't have to look him straight in the eye. "Christian Shepherd. Locke told me in the hospital back in Los Angeles that he spoke to him. I simply wanted to forget about it the same way I was trying to forget about everyone we left behind." He looks him again squarely in the eyes. "Locke said that he told him to _tell my son hello_."

Sawyer steps out of the shallow grave, deep in thought, piecing the details together. "Don't you think that's a little weird, Doc? I mean, he didn't say anything to you when you were chasing him through the jungle, but then he's there to meet with Locke at the bottom of a well, buddy-buddy with him, telling him how to save the Island, then he tells him _'Oh yeah, by the way, could ya tell my son hello for me?'_ Give me a break."

"Very weird," Jack agrees, chuckling beneath his breath. The burden of shame is lifted as if Sawyer were the priest he was confessing to. The laughter resurfaces in Jack's voice; he chuckles mildly, then unleashes a bout of uncontrollable laughter. He holds his belly tight, each burst of laughter like medicine to his healing soul.

"What's so funny?" Sawyer asks, clueless to what Jack is going through.

Jack shrugs his shoulders and wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes. "I'm insane," he admits, his voice scratchy from the laughter.

"No you're not Doc, especially if Locke's seen him too." The trees rustle and a flock of birds scatter somewhere off in the distance. Sawyer gazes deep into the jungle toward the commotion, as if the Island was caught eavesdropping on their conversation. "Locke knows somethin' we don't. He hasn't told us everything yet."


	48. Unpredictable

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 48-  
>Unpredictable<strong>

The remaining group of Locke, Jin, Sayid, Hurley, and Kate rejoin at the Pearl trail they were on before the outrigger chase. They hike for several miles until Locke identifies several landmarks marking close proximity to the Swan. "Follow me," he says, redirecting the group off the trail and into the thick jungle. The moist forest floor sinks beneath their feet like a wet sponge. Locke stays ahead of the line, clearing the brush and lifting low hanging branches for the group to pass under. Insects flutter and fill the air as their habitat becomes disturbed. Water droplets leftover from morning dew rain down on them as the foliage along their path is shaken.

Locke stops every hundred feet or so to gauge the landscape. For the first time since his death and resurrection, he's finally back home in his walkabout element. He spots a tree with open gouges in the bark then tests the stickiness of the sap with his fingertips. "Boar tusks," he cautions the group. He scans the landscape and recognizes the area from his days of boar hunting with Boone, which was how he accidentally found the hatch in the first place.

Locke nods quietly while licking the sap off his fingertips. "We're very close," he announces, the excitement building in his voice. The clouds obscuring the sun withdraw like an opening curtain. A column of sunlight projects like a spotlight on to a clearing in the woods ahead of them. Locke points out the brightly illuminated area and trudges forward. "There it is! The clearing! We're almost to the end."

The group fixates on the clearing like a lighthouse guiding ships to the shore; the vegetation thins as they get closer, making it progressively easier to walk. The scattering of sunlight glistens off the smooth layer of wet grass and forms a rainbow stretching to both sides of the treeless patch of meadow. Hurley picks up his pace and catches up to Locke. "Dude, so do we get to go home after we save the island?" he asks excitedly.

Locke grins and looks back with a grandfatherly expression. "Hugo, the end of every journey is the beginning of another."

* * *

><p><em>On board Oceanic 815<br>2004_

The turbulence has cleared for the time being; everyone on board relaxes with their seat belts buckled, anticipating arrival to the Island very soon. Benjamin Linus is absorbed into the novel he's been reading since takeoff from Sydney. He chuckles and turns to the next page, oblivious to the other passengers around him.

John Locke rolls down the aisle to pay him a visit. He parks his wheelchair and waits several long seconds for him to pay attention. "Must be good," Locke jokes, attempting to break through the mental wall of separation.

Ben immediately looks up and smiles warmly. His overzealous expression seems too friendly to be sincere. "Oh, hello John!" he greets him as if he were a car salesman and Locke just rolled on to his sale lot. Locke doesn't buy it for a second; he glances down at the floor to let the awkwardness pass. He looks back up; Ben is already absorbed back into his book; maybe he was sincere after all. He flips to the next page, the thickness of the remaining pages slowly counting down to the end.

"You want to tell me what it's about?" Locke asks, his curiosity peaking.

Ben lowers his reading glasses and looks up from the page. "It's an enjoyable read, but actually quite predictable."

"Predictable?" Locke asks, confused by his conflicted response.

Ben folds his reading glasses to the side. He clears his throat; his demeanor more serious than his original greeting, his tone full of conviction. "Every novel has the good guys, the bad guys, and the conflict between them. But inwardly, every man is corrupt. The stories always end the same. People come, they kill, and they destroy."

Locke wrinkles his nose and flinches his head back, repulsed by the pessimism. "That's because it makes good fiction, Ben. In the real world, people always progress from their struggles, and the end of something always means the beginning of something greater."

Ben marks the page with a slip of paper and slaps the book shut. "So what's your story, John?"

Locke grins smugly, gazing around the cabin of the plane at each one of his friends. "My friends and I are going to save the Island."

Ben grasps the hardcover novel, realizing the amazing story will soon come to an end. "And how do you think your story will end?"

Locke contemplates rolling away without answering in order to build the suspense, but figures he could at least give him a hint. "As long as all of us stay together, everything will turn out OK."

* * *

><p><em>Back on the Island<em>

The group enters the edges of the clearing; Locke looks in every direction desperately searching for something, or someone. "He's supposed to be here," Locke complains, his voice sounding panicky.

"Who?" asks Kate, her eyes looking about for movement.

Hurley leans close to Kate and speaks loud enough so only she can hear. "Um, maybe he's talking about the creepy dude at the bottom of the well."

Suddenly, the clouds pass over the sun once again; the shaft of light and rainbow disappear. The peaceful meadow they were drawn to turns out to be an illusive mirage. The sound of electromagnetic humming grows louder as they approach a deep pit that wasn't visible from the edges of the clearing. Locke feels movement in his backpack; he unzips a pocket and his metal binoculars fling toward the buzzing electromagnetism. Everyone slows their pace and holds their hands over their ears as the sound becomes intolerable. Streaks of blood drips from their nostrils; Sayid's abdominal wounds flare back up and bleed again as if he just took a bullet.

Locke holds up his hands and prevents the group from getting any closer. "I've made a serious mistake! We need to get back to the beach and find Jack and Sawyer! Right now!"

Suddenly, the ground rumbles violently and the electromagnetic pit of chaos collapses even deeper, enveloping a large part of the meadow and spewing hot radioactive steam into the air.

"Run!"

* * *

><p><em>Back at the Beach<em>

Jack pours the last layer of dirt over Radzinsky's beach side grave. Sawyer evens the soil with his paddle then marks the headstone with a large rock. They stand there quietly, honoring him with a moment of silence. Sawyer clenches his jaw and stares coldly at the ground. "Good riddance," he grunts like an unremorseful Texas sheriff.

The ground suddenly rumbles all around them; they spread their arms and bend their knees to keep their balance. "What the hell was that?" says Sawyer, stunned wide eyed.

Jack watches a geyser of steam rise to the sky from the middle of the jungle, his heart races as he thinks of his friends who are closer to the danger. "We should have never separated from the group," he admits, full of remorse. He sprints into the woods toward the center of commotion.

Sawyer races from behind to catch up. "Live together, die alone! Right Doc?"

"That's right!"


	49. A New End

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 49-  
>A New End<br>**

Jack and Sawyer sprint toward the sound of eruption, their view of the chaos obscured by the thickening jungle around them. As they get closer, the familiar sweet smell of rainforest vegetation becomes tainted with a nauseating sulfuric aroma. Sawyer coughs, his lungs and nostrils burn at each breath, followed by the onset of an intense headache. His pace slows as he loses sight of Jack in front of him. He stumbles over a root and falls flat on his stomach. "Wait up Doc!" he screams as best he can with his breath knocked out, his hands and elbows sinking into the soft ground. He rolls on to his back and wipes the tingling of blood away from his nostrils.

Jack trudges forward, unaware his comrade has fallen behind. The heat of the jungle intensifies each step closer to the exposed source. He passes through several intense layers of jungle habitat; low brush and fallen timber, a thick mix of eye level palmetto, twisty vines hanging from old growth hardwoods, and lastly into a dizzying patch of bamboo. The pain in Jack's abdomen resurfaces; the endless pattern of bamboo in every direction disorients him. His pace slows to a crawl; he finally collapses in exhaustion, holding pressure to the painful wound. He stares upward; the bamboo encompassing him stretch vertically to the sky and sway in the breeze. His eyelids flutter in a final effort to stay conscious, and then gradually close shut.

* * *

><p><em>On board Oceanic 815<br>2004_

A wave of turbulence jostles the airliner as it nears the opening window to the Island. The passengers remain calm; Benjamin Linus reads the final pages to his novel; Kate tends to pregnant Claire who is still passed out and leaned back in her seat. Jack stumbles up the aisle returning from the cockpit, trying to get back to his seat while holding pressure to his reappearing abdominal wound. He collapses to the floor and turns over on his back to rest.

Kate unbuckles quickly and kneels at his side. "Jack!" she cries out as his eyes slowly flutter shut. She looks to Locke and Ben in a panic, hoping for an explanation of what's happening. "He's not breathing!"

Ben finishes the final sentence to his novel then softly closes the hardcover. He removes his reading glasses and smirks in satisfaction. "We need you, John. You're our only hope in saving the Island."

"Me? Your only hope?" Locke sneers at Ben's comment, accusing him of flattery and suspecting he's scheming a plan with his own selfish interests in mind. "If you truly believed in me, then why did you kill me?"

"That's part of what makes you special. It was your death that brought all of us back."

Oceanic 815 enters the window of passage to the Island; the shaking halts, the roar from the jet engines silences as if they were coasting through outer space. A mysterious high pitch noise resonates all around them and grows steadily louder. The light coming through the cabin windows grows brighter; those next to a window peer out, looking in every direction to find where the source of light is originating. The high pitch noise grows deafening, and the mysterious light brighter.

And brighter.

And even brighter.

Locke turns his head and shields his eyes, still tempted but no longer able to look into the mesmerizing light.

Ben closes his eyes and smiles in anticipation of the unknown. "See you on the other side, John."

* * *

><p><strong>Attn readers, sorry so short! Obviously not the final end, just an end of this particular journey. And as Locke wisely stated, the end of every journey is the beginning of another. See you on the other side! -bobt<strong>


	50. A New Beginning

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>x<p>

**-Chapter 50-  
>A New Beginning<strong>

Jack's eyes snap open; his pupils constrict to soften the sunlight permeating the thin leaves of the bamboo tops. The experience is so familiar it seems routine; the bamboo swaying in the breeze, the blue sky, the moist forest floor pressing against his back. It's the same place he awoke after Oceanic and Ajira. Once again, the Island has brought him full circle; perhaps it's a message from the Island that the end of his journey is a new beginning. Or perhaps, there never was a journey and time hasn't passed at all, and everything since has been one crazy dream.

The ground beneath him rumbles and the bitter aroma of sulfur returns to his nostrils, alerting him to the grim reality of the Island dying beneath him. He recalls being separated from his friends, choosing to go against his own philosophy of _live together, die alone_; and now, ironically, he's all alone with the eventuality of death hovering over him.

His eyelids flutter and close shut once again. He hears the crackling of leaves approaching, like a wild animal scouring the forest floor for food. He feels the warmth of the animal next to his face, its wet nose nudging his skin. Its nostrils sniff air in and out of Jack's ear, followed by a slimy drip of saliva running down his neck. It incessantly licks every crevasse of skin inside his ear. The tickling awakens him; the animal's tail rapidly wags back and forth, whipping Jack's thigh like a weighted baton. Jack opens his eyes and sees the white fur of a familiar four legged friend he never imagined seeing again.

"Vincent?" he softly calls in a raspy voice.

His voice prompts the canine to lick his face even more fervently. "Vincent," he exhales with a shallow cough as the dog's front paws press into his chest. Jack's strength returns as he pets the Labrador's head. "How did you get here?"

"Ruff!"

Footsteps approach several yards away to investigate the sound of barking. "Doc!" Sawyer calls out, entering the bamboo patch. "What the hell? Is that Vincent?"

"Ruff! Ruff!" Vincent replies, running over to greet Sawyer.

The bushes along the edges of the bamboo rustle; the vines part and Kate suddenly appears. "I found them! They're over here, in the bamboo!" she calls out to the rest of the group. She twitches her freckled nose and tilts her head slightly. "Is that, Vincent?"

"Ruff!" Vincent sprints over to Kate, licking her hands as she reaches out to pet him.

The bushes rustle from footsteps approaching in every direction; Sayid, Jin, Hurley, and Locke emerge from the jungle and enter the bamboo patch. "Dude! Vincent's here!" Hurley reacts, happy to see the four legged survivor rejoining the group.

The ground suddenly rumbles violently, everyone braces their stance by bending their knees and holding on to the bamboo shoots. Vincent whines and leans against Jack for comfort. The shaking ceases; Sawyer looks to Locke with an accusatory stare. "You want to tell me what the hell you did to the Island?"

Locke looks to the ground, ashamed to admit his disappointment in what they found, feeling responsible for leading them on a mission where they almost lost their lives. "We made it to the Swan site, but there was nothing but an empty pit spewing steam and pulling in metal. It was awful."

The hope of ever seeing Juliet again drains from Sawyer's face, replaced with an angry rage for falling for Locke's empty promises. "Well, what the hell are we going to do now!"

Locke looks to Jack, defeated and speechless, deferring to the Man of Science to call the shots from now on. "What do you think Jack?" he asks, holding his hand downward to help Jack to his feet.

Jack pulls himself up and brushes the dirt off his pants. "We've got to get back to the beach, fit all of us into the outrigger, and take our chances on Hydra Island."

Vincent sprints in circles around the group, trying to get everyone's attention. He picks up a stick and places it next to Locke. "Ruff! Ruff!"

Sawyer vents his anger out on the dog. "This ain't the best time to play fetch, you mutt!"

Vincent heads into the woods. "Ruff! Ruff!"

"I don't think he wants to play," Locke massages his chin, considering the canine's odd behavior. "I think Vincent wants us to follow him."

Vincent sprints further into the woods, barking repeatedly to allow the group to follow. "Everybody; follow Vincent!" Jack instructs.

The group leaves the bamboo patch and treks back into the jungle. They inadvertently spread out, following at differing paces, zeroing in on the sounds of barking in the distance.

Jack finds himself alone again; the jungle is eerily silent, absent of birds and insects chirping. "Vincent!" he calls out; a distant bark sounds in the distance, echoing off the trunks and boulders around him. Jack gauges the direction of sound toward a small clearing in the woods. The vegetation thins as he get nearer, making it progressively easier to walk. The grasses and flowers are fresh and the wildlife is chirping again; apparently, the clearing seems to be unaffected by what is happening to the rest of the Island. He spots a small abandoned cabin at the wood's edge; Vincent paces back and forth on the cabin front porch, waiting for his friends to arrive.

"Ruff! Ruff!"

Jack is startled by a hand suddenly reaching out from behind a tree, preventing him from taking another step. "Don't move, Jack," whispers the Middle Eastern soldier. "Look down at your feet."

Jack's heart races; he looks down expecting to see a trip wire; instead, he sees a line of grey ash poured across the ground. "What is it?"

"The material feels similar to ash, but could possibly be some kind of detonator," Sayid cautions. Vincent barks again from the cabin porch, coaxing Sayid and Jack to step across. "I believe our friend Vincent is leading us into a trap."

"Ruff! Ruff!"

The trees and bushes rustle nearby as Hurley runs toward the sound of barking. Sayid warns him to stop. "Hurley! Don't move!"

Hurley looks down and spots the powdery substance; he tries to stop, but his momentum carries him forward. "Dude!" he yells, falling across the line and into the clearing. He lies on the ground for a few seconds and takes a couple breathes; the air is oddly refreshing, and his headache is clearing. "Dude, I can breathe again!" He wipes his nose to check for any signs of bleeding. "My nose! It stopped bleeding!"

"Ruff! Ruff!"

Sayid closes his eyes and takes a chance crossing the ash. He opens his eyes on the other side and inhales the fresh air. "Hurley's right." He lifts his shirt to check his wounds; the bleeding stops and a new layer of skin instantly seals over. "Remarkable."

Kate, Jin, and Sawyer reach the clearing and step over the ash along with Jack. They're relieved to inhale fresh oxygen; Jack checks his neck and abdomen and discovers all of his wounds are miraculously healed.

John Locke is the last to reach the clearing; he kneels with caution and picks up a handful of ash. He stares to Jack, his expression filled with relief that his journey of faith is about to conclude. "This is why I came back," he says, pouring the fine substance back in to place. "I wish you had believed me, Jack."

Hurley encourages him to step over and join them. "Dude, we're fine. Step over, man. It's easier to breathe over here."

Locke picks up another handful, sifting it between his fingers, watching the powder drift down like falling sand inside an hourglass. "Sorry, Hugo. This line I _cannot_ cross."

Suddenly, the cabin door creaks open; a man resembling Christian Shepherd steps out of the dark interior and into the light. He thanks his canine companion with a pat to the head, then makes firm eye contact with each person in the group. "I've been waiting for you, each one of you, for a very long time."

Jack's eyes well up with tears and a cold chill shoots down his spine. The tightening muscles in his throat prevent him from calling out. "Dad?" he cries softly, staring in disbelief.

The Man of Faith locks eyes with the mysterious man from the cabin; he promptly pours the ash back into its rightful place and takes a cautious step backward from the ash ring. "Hello, Christian," he says, biting his upper lip, knowing the truth about everything will soon be revealed.

"Hello, John."


	51. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p1

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>x<p>

**-Part 1-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<br>**

"Hello, John."

The group huddles together stunned and confused, thankful for breathing fresh air but feeling like sheep led to the slaughter. Jack grabs his chest and hunches over, the fresh air isn't enough to keep him from hyperventilating. Kate lifts his arm and leans her body underneath to support him. She looks into his eyes but he avoids looking back; his eyes locked in a stare with his dead father standing on the cabin porch.

They were unaware they passed through a mystical barrier formed by the perimeter ash. It extends toward the sky in the shape of a dome, encompassing the entire clearing, somehow permeable to the Losties crossing over, but acting as a powerful shield to the harsh conditions of the dying Island around them.

Locke watches his friends from the outside looking in; like watching fish in a fish bowl, the image he sees of them is slightly distorted. He pokes and pulls back his index finger through the translucent force field; the liquid-like energy momentarily sticks to his skin then snaps back into place, a circular wave of light pulsates along the field in every direction.

Locke licks his fingertips the same way he tasted the sap from the boar tree. "Unfortunately, this isn't over yet. Claire got away. I still need to track her down." Everyone is dumbfounded by his remark; apparently, Locke and Christian agreed upon a plan nobody else was aware of.

Christian approaches the group with Vincent at his side; his stride is calm, his tone peaceful and undemanding. "Do not be troubled, John. She's found her way to the cabin before; she will find her way again."

* * *

><p><em>2004, Ann Arbor, Michigan<br>Basement floor of Towsley Medical Clinic_

Daniel Faraday's eyes snap open; his pupils constrict to adjust to the fluorescent lighting shining above him. He awakens dazed and confused after several days under sedation. He looks about the room to orient himself; the walls are barren cement, various pieces of electronic equipment signal and record scientific measurements. A familiar leather bound journal is placed on the lamp stand next to his bed.

A woman leans in closely to check on him; her beautiful red hair dangles inches from his face, her fragrance tantalizing him, her blue eyes sparkling like gems. "Mr. Widmore, he's waking up," she whispers, being careful not to startle him. Her head obscures the ceiling light above her, forming an angelic halo around her scarlet hair.

Daniel's blurred vision clears to a crisp focus; he fixates on her beautiful face. "You're the woman in my dreams," he whispers, his voice dry from the hours of sleep.

Daniel's first words catch her by surprise and penetrate her heart; her eyes quickly swell, a teardrop streams down her cheek. "I thought I could save you," she responds, choked with emotion as she gathers her thoughts. "But now I understand; your sacrifice was needed for the greater good."

Charles Widmore approaches from behind and squeezes Charlotte's shoulder to comfort her. "He still must choose, Dr. Lewis. Although, whatever he decides, he will be unable to remember unless he reaches the Island."

She leans over and kisses Daniel on the cheek as the tears rush down her face. "You were always in my dreams too, Daniel." She leaves the room abruptly, her emotions too distraught for conversation.

Charles clears his throat and pulls a chair next to his bed. "Hello Daniel. My name is Charles Widmore. Tell me, what do you remember before waking up here?"

Daniel blinks rapidly, sorting through vague experiences in the back of his mind. "I was playing the piano at my Mother's house." He glances again to the lamp stand, curious to what's written in the leather journal.

Charles places the journal in Daniel's hands. "Perhaps this will refresh your memory."

Daniel opens the pages and recognizes his own handwriting. He skims over the complex equations and diagrams, his understanding of physics slowly resurfaces, and so does his memory. He looks up from the pages, the look of confusion replaced with clarity. "I can save the survivors, sir. I can save all of them and the Island."

"They detonated the bomb in 1977, just as you instructed. The scientists in the Initiative believe the energy pocket built back up."

Daniel looks back to the pages of the journal, hoping to find another solution. He shakes his head; the certainty in his eyes diminishes.

Charles takes the journal out of his hands and places it back on the lamp stand. "If we're ever going to save the survivors of Oceanic 815 and the Island, we must first find the Island. I have been trying to do so for over thirty years, and have failed at every attempt. Will you help me, Daniel?"

Daniel sits up in bed and runs his fingers through his hair. "Of course, but I'll need resources. I need measuring devices equipped.."

Charles interrupts him mid sentence. "All of my resources are at your disposal, son." He reaches inside his coat pocket and pulls out another leather bound journal, slightly worn but virtually identical to the one Daniel was just reading. "You might want to have a look at this."

Daniel opens it, astounded to see his handwriting again. He recognizes identical diagrams, but with additional handwritten explanations, and with additional equations and diagrams not found in the original. "Where did you get this?" he asks, the excitement returning to his face.

"It is the same journal, but from_ the future_. A man named Christian told me to give it to you."

Daniel reads midway through the journal, absorbing his own future explanations of time travel, and detailed instructions _he gave to himself_. The symbol of the Orchid is noted with dire warnings; several pages of instructions entitled _secondary protocol_ follow. On the next page, his explicit instructions give the final solution in case anything goes wrong:

_In case anything goes wrong,  
>Desmond Hume will be my Constant.<em>

Daniel looks up from the pages. "Who is Desmond?"

"Desmond?" Widmore straightens his posture and tenses his jaw; he was fretting the matter of his estranged son in law inevitably coming up. "A mad Scotsman in love with my daughter. The last thing I heard, he ventured off in a sailing trip around the world, attempting to earn my approval."

Daniel closes the journal, fully confident of a solution to the complex dilemma. "If we're going to save the Island, _I need to speak to Desmond Hume_."


	52. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p2

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>x<p>

**-Part 2-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<br>**

_The Island  
>Moments after Benjamin Linus turns the wheel<br>_Year:Unknown?_  
><em>

Bernard scrambles barefooted through the woods after the landscape instantaneously morphs around him. "Rose!" he cries out, panic stricken. He reaches the sand and notices their entire beach camp has disappeared. His heart races, looking around in desperation, reliving the heartbreak of being separated from Rose just as he did after the crash. "Rose!" he calls out again.

"Bernard!" Juliet replies down the beach, waving her arm to get his attention. She and Sawyer stand dazed and confused after watching the damaged freighter billowing black smoke disappear on the horizon.

Bernard races down the beach to meet them. "Have you seen Rose?"

"Oh my God! Bernard!" Rose screams out at the woods edge, running on to the beach to be by her husband's side.

"Rose! Where were you?"

"I was over there, back at the church. What was that sound?" she asks, grabbing his hand tightly, their faces close together. "And what was that light?"

Sawyer tries his best to put everyone at ease. "Calm down. There's no need to panic. We'll just go back to camp and figure..."

"Calm down? No need to panic?" Bernard interrupts, still out of breath from sprinting through the woods. "We can't go back to the camp!"

Sawyer pauses to make sense of it all; the beach wind wisps through his hair, still damp from his swim back from the chopper. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"There is no camp," Bernard answers firmly, having witnessed the disappearance himself. "The sky lit up, then everything was gone. The kitchen; gone. Then all the tents; gone. All the food and water; it's gone."

"It's not gone," says Daniel Faraday, approaching in the sand behind them. He just arrived on shore along with several other passengers in a zodiac boat; fortunately never reaching the doomed freighter and still within the radius of Island movement. He pulls out his trusty science journal and looks for clues of what to do next. "Listen, we don't have a lot of time. I need you to take me to the Swan hatch, right now."

Sawyer confronts the bearded geek in a tie. "Wait a minute, we're not taking you anywhere until we get some answers. What do you mean our camp's not gone?"

"Your camp's not gone because it hasn't been built yet." Faraday nods every syllable while explaining the bizarre phenomenon only a genius can fathom. "The flash in the sky was the Island moving through time," he continues while flipping through the worn pages of his journal. He finds the page he was searching for and looks up at the bare chested cowboy. "James Ford?" he asks.

Sawyer exchanges a glance with Juliet. "Yeah, that's me. What's it to you?" he grunts with his arms crossed, full of cockiness.

"I know my question will sound absurd, but I need you to confirm something to me." Daniel eases backward, speaking slowly again with his hands gestured openly. "Are you James the conman, or the cop?"

Sawyer uncrosses his arms and smirks a dimpled grin, the question is so ridiculous it's hard to take offense. "Call me Sawyer. If you're hoping I'm a cop, you found the wrong James."

"Perfect; you're exactly who I was hoping for. I'm Daniel." Faraday reaches in his backpack and pulls out a tshirt and a pair of sneakers. "I brought these for you. Now, I would appreciate it if you would take me to the hatch."

Sawyer is appreciative of the clothing; he lost both his shirt and shoes during his long swim back from jumping out of the chopper. He puts them on, both a perfect fit. "Hold on a second, Dilbert; you telling me that journal has my name and occupation written in it, along with the fact I needed a shirt and a pair of shoes?"

Daniel nods and places his palm flat across the cover as if he were swearing in testimony. "This journal has every detail needed to save the Island, and you can help me save it by showing me the hatch, right now."

Sawyer exhales a sigh of annoyance and glances to Juliet. She stares back in her typical long judgmental stare, her eyes piercing his soul, her mind questioning every man's motive. "Go find the others and gather them at the beach camp, or what used to be beach camp. I'll be back soon."

* * *

><p>Sawyer leads Daniel deep into the jungle, stopping every so often to recognize landmarks leading to the Swan. "Thought I'd let you know; that hatch is just a hole in the ground. We blew it up several months back."<p>

Daniel skims his journal as he follows Sawyer from behind. "Your beach camp hasn't been built yet; so logically, the hatch hasn't been destroyed yet."

Sawyer slows down his pace and walks shoulder-to-shoulder. "You mind telling me why we're going to the hatch?"

"It's not the hatch I'm after; it's the man inside pushing the button."

Sawyer stops mid pace and looks over his shoulder. "Desmond?"

Suddenly, a high pitch sound emanates from above, escalating to a deafening volume. Sawyer squints and covers his ears tightly. "Son of a.."

The sky brightens to an intense flash and the landscape around them instantaneously shifts.

"…Bitch."

"Whoa." Daniel flutters his eyes and shakes off the residual headache. He steps forward, unaware of the open crater in the ground right in front him.

Sawyer instinctively grabs his arm, saving him from falling into the imploded remnants of the Swan. "Whoa!" The loose soil under his feet trickles down the cliff face.

Sawyer looks over the edge, disappointed for leaving the beach to find an empty hole in the ground. "That button pusher you were looking for; he left a long time ago."

Daniel drops his head and lowers his shoulders. "We must have just missed him. I'll wait here for the next flash and hope we skip to the right time."

Sawyer tosses a pebble into the crater; it clanks across several pieces of metal before settling at the bottom. "I gotta get back to everyone at the beach. How long until the next flash?"

Daniel closes the journal, realizing the unpredictable nature of the flashes leaves little room for answers. "Could be 5 minutes, or 5 centuries."

"Good luck with that, Danny boy. I'll check back with you in a couple days," says Sawyer, following the trail back into the woods.

* * *

><p>Several hours pass by, and the afternoon sun transitions to evening. The crickets begin chirping and the temperature cools slightly. Daniel takes a seat at the lip of the crater's edge, staring down at the twisted metal below, he sips from his water bottle realizing he needs to conserve if he's going to spend the night.<p>

He turns to the back pages of his journal, looking for fresh notes to review before daylight dims, and discovers a small envelope taped inside the back cover. He carefully removes the tape and opens it; his heart flutters as he finds a picture of a red headed girl seated on a swing set, folded within a hand written note. He reads on:

_Dear Daniel,_

_If you're reading this, you've made it to the Island..  
>the same Island I once called home as a little girl.<br>I can remember the day many years ago,  
>as I was innocently playing on a swing set;<br>a thin bearded man wearing a blue tie approached me,  
>and begged me never to return once I left the Island,<br>or else I would surely die. It was a horrific childhood memory  
>to say the least, but thankfully one I could never forget.<br>I knew it was you when I met you in Michigan, Daniel;  
>I heeded your words by not joining the team venturing to the Island,<br>although it has always been a dream of mine to find it._

_I am afraid your fate is also tied to being on the Island,  
>but for the very fact of you being there, I have escaped mine.<br>I hope you will forgive me for such a selfish act by not doing  
>everything in my power to prevent you from going,<br>although you insisted your plan on speaking to Desmond Hume  
>was important enough to risk your life in doing so.<br>I wish you the very best, Daniel…  
>and it is my hope that Desmond saves your life,<br>just as you have saved mine._

_Yours truly,  
>Charlotte<em>

Just as Daniel reads the final words of the letter, a high pitch sound emanates from above, and the sky radiates a glow, growing brighter and brighter.

And brighter..

And brighter..

(to be continued!)

* * *

><p><strong>Dear Readers, hope you're enjoying! You probably recognize that first scene as being very similar to the actual scene after the Island was first moved by Benjamin Linus, in the episode "Because You Left" Season5Ep1… more soon! -bobt<strong>


	53. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p3

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****-Part 3-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<strong>  
><strong>

The sky brightens to a brilliant white flash; Daniel scoots to safety away from the crater, realizing it could expand or contract during the skip. He holds tightly to his journal, ensuring it stays with him. The landscape and temperature around him shifts in an instant; what was evening transforms to morning dusk. Blades of fresh lengthy grass surround him and cushion his seating, the moisture in the air is thick with droplets of morning dew.

He tests his footing and stands on the ground which was moments ago a deep crater. He treads the tall grass looking for the hatch entrance, hoping current time is the window of opportunity he can use for altering future events. Suddenly, he stumbles across a metal rectangle with a glass face jutting out of the ground. "Desmond," he mumbles excitedly, his veins suddenly pumping with adrenaline. He follows the terrain down to lower ground, looking for the side door he has noted in his journal. A wall of leafy vines covers a dark cave like entrance; he parts the camouflage cover, revealing a sliding wall of rusty metal.

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

Daniel pounds the door with his fist, the hollow sound reverberates like pounding a garage door. "Come on, Desmond," he calls out nervously.

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

He whispers sentences of possible conversations he foresees having once the door widens. "Desmond, you're the only one that can help. You're uniquely special. The rules don't apply to you, Desmond. Come on, open the door."

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

His heart throbs in his chest as he takes a deep breath to relax. "This is going to work," he says to encourage himself. Suddenly, a high pitch sound emanates from above, and the sky begins to brighten. "Oh no!" he cries in a panic.

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

"Come on Desmond! Please open up! Please!"

The sky continues to brighten…

* * *

><p><em>2002<br>Inside the Swan hatch_

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Desmond's eyes snap open, his pupils dilate slightly to the dimmed lamp on the stand next to his bed; a light always kept on in case he needs to quickly find his way to the computer to enter the numbers. It's Desmond's turn to watch the terminal, while his button pushing partner Kelvin has ventured out of the hatch again on his secretive mission to investigate the Island. He's already pushed the button 45 minutes ago and decided to prolong his morning sleep, which was interrupted by a knock on the side entrance that has never occurred before.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Since Kelvin knows the code to get in, he quickly concludes he has a visitor. He jumps out of bed and suits up in his hazmat suit, and grabs his rifle from the gun closet. He stands poised at the door, waiting again for the next knock to make sure he confronts the stranger head on.

*Thump* *Thump*

Desmond quickly slides open the door and aims the scope of his rifle. He's blinded by a flash of brightness, which suddenly dims back to normal morning daylight. A mysterious man stands calmly several feet away, holding a journal in his hand with a white Labrador retriever at his side. An abandoned cabin is in the woods behind him; a cabin Desmond never noticed from the side entrance door before.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Desmond demands, his finger tightened to the trigger.

"Hello, Desmond," the man greets him, his expression unusually calm for having a rifle pointed at his chest. Vincent pants and wags his tail, staying calm at his master's side. "I'm Christian." He steps closer, holding the journal open.

"Stay back brutha!" Desmond commands. The trigger clicks, but the rifle fails to fire. Desmond pulls it again and once again it fails to discharge. Desmond lowers the rifle, shocked and speechless as the man comes face to face to talk.

"Listen to me very carefully. There's a woman at a church in Los Angeles, her name is Eloise Hawking. I need you to tell her that a sacrifice has already been made, and that her son Daniel is alive and will be returning very soon."

"A sacrifice? What the hell are you talking about!" Desmond screams, his hazmat facemask fogging up from heavy breathing.

"Look for the church with the Christ statue." Christian opens to a page of the journal with a hand sketched figure of Christ with arms open wide. "The Church of Sacred Hearts."

A high pitch sound grows steadily around them; Desmond looks up to the tree canopy to find the source.

"Ruff! Ruff!" Vincent wags his tail excitedly, rustling the tall grass behind him.

Christian places the journal in Desmond's grip and looks him squarely in the eyes. "See you in another life," he says with a wink.

The sky once again brightens to a brilliant glow, then brighter, and brighter, and brighter…


	54. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p4

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******-Part 4-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<strong>**  
><strong>

_On board "Our Mutual Friend"  
>Long Beach, California<br>Year: 2007_

Desmond's body fidgets while sleeping; his breathing heavy and erratic; his hand muscles tighten their grip as if he were holding a man at gunpoint. His movement is involuntary, and mimics an experience of the mind; an actual experience happening in another place and time.

"Wake up Des," whispers Penny, lying next to him in the bed and gently shaking him by the shoulder. Her voice disrupts the experience, pulling him back into current reality; the signature voice of his _constant_, anchoring him during his episodes of mind jumping confusion. His eyes snap open, his face and hair drenched with sweat from outdoor conditions harsher than his air conditioned sailboat.

Penny flips the light on next to the bed. "Are you alright?"

The sailboat's wooden hull creaks from the ocean's gentle sway. His confusion clears as he orients himself back to his 2007 surroundings. "I was on the Island," he answers, his breathing relaxing.

She pulls her body close to his side and rubs his naked shoulder. "You're safe now," she assures him, kissing the soft skin of his shoulder. "It was just a dream."

"It wasn't a dream, Pen." Desmond quickly pulls away, becoming defensive, fully convinced of the reality of his experience. "It was a _memory_."

"A memory?" Penny scoots back to her side of the bed and leans against her pillow. "Tell me then; what is it you remember?" she wonders how he can differentiate between the two.

Desmond blinks, gathering his thoughts. "On the Island, a man visited me at the hatch door. He wants me to give a message to a woman at a church in Los Angeles."

"A woman? Inside a church?" she asks, perplexed.

"Aye," Des nods, recalling Christian's instructions. "Her name is Eloise Hawking."

Penny's skepticism turns to concern; she instantly recognizes the name of a woman she once knew as a small child.

Desmond senses she's uncomfortable. "What's wrong?"

"Eloise Hawking," she repeats with a blank stare forward. "She was my stepmother for a short time, many many years ago. My father left her to be with my mother."

Desmond immediately jumps out of bed, throws on a tshirt, and races up the staircase to the deck of the ship.

"Desmond, where are you going?" she calls out below deck, struggling up the steps to catch up to him.

He runs to the ship's bow and cranks the handle which pulls in the ship's anchor. "She's looking for him, just as you were once looking for me," he answers with a sense of urgency.

"Looking for him?" she asks, even more perplexed. "Looking for who, Des?"

He pauses the crank to answer, giving her his full attention. "If Eloise is your stepmother, you also have a brutha you never knew."

* * *

><p><em>The Island<br>Year: 13 A.D._

The flash in the sky dims back to normal daylight; the landscape shifts and the hatch door Daniel pounds against instantly morphs to grass and soil. "Oh no, this can't happen," he says with his knuckles driven into the dirt, disappointed for missing the crucial time window.

He opens his trusty journal, looking for clues of what to do next, and reaches into his backpack for his compass. The magnetic interference from the energy pocket beneath him spins the compass arrow, making it useless for finding direction. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps and rustling vegetation approaches from the nearby woods. Daniel freezes in his stance, hoping it's Sawyer returning to check on him and not hostile natives from ancient Island times. He's relieved to see a friendly white Labrador emerging from the woods, at first keeping his distance then slowly warming to come closer. "Hey boy," Daniel calls and kneels to pet him. Vincent wags his tail and licks his hands in return.

The vegetation rustles again nearby. "Wait for me, Vincent!" a young adolescent boy calls out. He emerges from the woods, freezing in his tracks at the sight of Daniel. His brilliant blue eyes are widened stunned, his bright blonde hair matching Vincent's white fur, his clothing stitched together from hand woven cloth and animal skins; he's an early Island native who's behavior is so timid, perhaps he's never seen another human being before.

"Hello," says Daniel while waving his hand, hoping the gesture is universal across Island time.

The boy awkwardly raises his hand and waves, his motioning stiff and robotic, mimicking the gesture like a humanoid alien from Star Trek. "Hello," he replies nervously.

Daniel is cautious not to seem threatening to the Island child, but also confused knowing Vincent is from his time period. He pats the dog on the head one last time before standing back up. "I've met Vincent before," he says, smoothing the awkwardness by sharing something in common.

The boy's face brightens with enthusiasm. "You know Vincent?" he asks excitedly, his demeanor relaxed after noticing his dog approves of him. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from the future," he slowly answers as if the child had difficulty understanding English. He bites his lip creating an awkward pause, regretting for divulging too much detail. Daniel always makes the mistake of answering simple questions with complex answers, trying to convey everything he knows without considering his audience. Although this time, Daniel is about to discover the audience he's speaking to is somebody _extremely special_.

"The future?" he asks, intrigued. The young man approaches, looking down at the journal and the spinning compass in Daniel's hands. He opens his palm to Daniel, revealing a figurine statue he was carrying. "Do you know what this statue means?" he asks.

Daniel exchanges his journal for the figurine. He holds it up to the light, admiring the crafted detail; it's a figurine of a man with the head of a crocodile, holding an Egyptian Ankh in its right hand. "It's beautiful, but no; I don't know what it means."

The teenager opens the journal, his eyes widen as he reads through the charts and equations. Daniel tries to exchange the figurine back for his valuable journal, but the boy is extremely fascinated. "The numbers and equations are what people from the future call physics; only people from the future can understand," Daniel explains.

He looks up from the journal, his expression bursting with the excitement of discovery. "But I understand." The curious boy reaches for the compass; Daniel freely hands it over, impressed with his remarkable intelligence. He's mesmerized by the spinning arrow, eager to know how it works. He finds the courage to look Daniel squarely in the eyes. "I want to know everything about the future."

* * *

><p><em>Los Angeles, California<br>Year: 2007_

Desmond parks the car in a church parking lot and cuts the ignition. "We're here," he announces excitedly, looking into the rearview mirror at Penny and young Charlie dozing off in the back seat.

Desmond holds Charlie's hand and walks off the pavement into the shadow of a large ominous Christ statue set in the grass; his arms stretched outward, seemingly greeting the Hume family as they approach. They stare upward in awe; the silhouetting sun behind him creates an angelic halo around his head. His shadow provides cool shaded relief from the Los Angeles summer heat.

"This is definitely it, Pen. Christian told me to look for the church with the statue of Christ," Desmond explains.

"A man, conveniently named Christian, told you to go to a church with a statue of Christ?" She wrinkles her nose, looking again pessimistic. "Sounds ridiculous. Are you sure this wasn't a dream?"

A young black teenage boy comes out from hiding behind a van in the parking lot. "His name isn't really Christian," he interrupts their conversation, his voice pitched high and with a slight lisp. "That's only what he likes to tell people, because that's somebody he looks like." His overgrown top front teeth overbite slightly, pinching his bottom lip while smiling.

Desmond is startled by the young stranger in the parking lot listening in, but senses he's only being friendly. "Can I help you, brutha?" he asks.

The teenager comes closer; his eyes are dark hazel, his hair neatly shaven around the edges with a slightly heightened flat top. His style is preppier than the typical California youth; baggy shorts, white tennis shoes, and a loose collared shirt almost twice his neck size. "Is your name Desmond?" asks the young man.

"Aye," answers Desmond, intrigued.

"I?" asks the boy, confused. "Are you like European or something? Because I don't understand you."

"Scottish," replies Desmond with a smirk, entertained by such a spontaneous conversation with a young peculiar lad. "In Scotland, aye means yes."

"Oh, I see, Ok. Well, I grew up in Australia. People down there speak kind of funny too. My dad says I have an accent, but I think he exaggerates to make fun of me," the teenager replies, long winded in speech. He's a long way from home and eager to share stories with anyone willing to listen. "So anyways, that person Christian who told you to come here, he told me to give this to you." He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a compass. "He said it's to help you find your way."

Desmond examines the aged compass; the metal is rusty, the water floating the north arrow a tinge cloudy, and the glass is faded from years of usage. "Thank you. You never know, this might come in handy."

"You're welcome," he replies. "Oh yeah, and Christian isn't really a grown up either. He's a kid, you know, just like me. He has my dog Vincent. He told me he's taking really good care of him."


	55. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p5

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********-Part 5-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<strong>****  
><strong>

"He has my dog Vincent. He told me he's taking really good care of him."

Desmond's memory of the hatch door flashes before his eyes, clearly recalling the canine companion sitting by Christian's side. "Is your dog a white Labrador, brutha?"

"Yes! That's him! That's Vincent!" Walt exclaims, overjoyed. "Last time I saw him, he was in his pet cage at the airport in Australia. They put him on the plane along with everyone's luggage, but me and my Dad never got on the plane because it was hijacked. That was three years ago. They found the plane in the ocean like six months later, it was in a really deep trench, only robots could go down that deep; like, you know, the remote control sub that found the Titanic? But way way deeper than the Titanic. Did you hear about that plane Desmond?

"Aye, I did indeed," he answers solemnly, peering toward Penny. "Oceanic 815; such a tragic loss of life." She moves closer to Desmond's side and squeezes his hand. Desmond's many flashes of the Island included visions of Oceanic survivors; but his hope of those visions being true faded once the Oceanic wreckage was found in the Indian Ocean at the bottom of the Sunda Trench.

Walt's demeanor is unfazed by Desmond's glumness. "They're alive, Desmond! Not just Vincent, but everyone else on the plane. He told me he's taking care of them! That's why the plane only took off with six people, he knew all of them would survive! You'll see Desmond!"

Walt checks his wristwatch and steps backward. "Uh-oh, I've got to go. The nurses are probably looking for me."

"Nurses? Looking for you?" asks Penny, the look of a concerned mother written all over her face. "Are you alright?"

Walt shrugs his shoulders, looking aloof. "Yeah, I guess so. My Grandma put me in Santa Rosa hospital once I started having these really weird dreams. They tell me I've been under a lot of stress since my mom died in Australia, but I don't think that's what's causing it." Walt waves goodbye as he walks away. "I'm Walt. I hope I see you again. Use the compass to guide you Desmond!"

Penny leans over to look at the compass in Desmond's hand, and notices right away something peculiar. "I think it's broken Des; the arrow isn't pointing north."

Des faces the direction the compass is pointing. "No, Pen. It isn't broken. It's pointing toward the church."

* * *

><p><em>The Island<br>Year: 13 A.D._

"I want to know everything about the future," says the young Islander.

Daniel is delighted to have such an intelligent young man as his audience. He jumps right into explaining the grim future he's trying to prevent. "The arrow is spinning because there's an enormous pocket of energy buried in the rock beneath our feet," he explains, pointing to the compass in the boy's hand. "In the future, people will use machines to drill into it; and unfortunately, when the energy is released, the Island will be destroyed."

The boy becomes distraught, shaking his head as a tear streams down his face. "No, I don't want this to happen. Mother told me I'm supposed to protect the Island."

Daniel looks into his eyes and places his hand on his shoulder to console him. "I'm doing everything I can to protect it too. Maybe we can work together to save it."

The boy sniffles and wipes his tears away; Daniel's suggestion is encouraging. "But what can we do about it?" the boy asks.

Daniel opens his journal to the page with details about the Orchid. "There's another energy pocket on the Island that was used to send me and my friends back in time. I need to find it; it's marked with a ring of stones with a well at the center. Do you know where it is?"

The Islander eagerly affirms with a nod. "Yes, I know the place." He lifts up his eyes and looks to the mountains in the north to gauge his direction. "Follow me."

* * *

><p><em>Los Angeles, California<br>Year: 2007_

Following the compass in his hand, Desmond ascends the front steps to the church while Penny and Charlie wait in the car for his return. He opens the wooden sanctuary doors; every pew is empty, but the ceiling lights are fully brightened. Desmond strolls the aisle, touching each pew as he passes; the wooden floors echo his every foot step. He gazes at the architectural beauty as he makes his way to the front of the church; the massive wooden beams supporting the ceiling, the colorful stained glass windows depicting saints and angels, the mural of the last supper stretching along the wall.

Desmond eyes a wooden staff leaning against the front pew; bible verses and religious symbols are hand carved into the wood and a thin piece of frayed rope is wrapped around as hand grip. Desmond recites a bible verse centered among the passages:

"_Lift up your eyes,  
>and look north."<em>  
>–<em>John 3:05<em>

Desmond instinctively looks up and fixates on a large crucifix of Christ hanging from the ceiling. His peaceful eyes are closed, and the crown of thorns press against His bleeding scalp.

Desmond suddenly discovers he's not alone as a priest exits the confession chamber and approaches. He's a large African man, with dreads woven into his hair and beard. "Ello," he says with a thick Nigerian accent. "I am Father Ecko. How do you do?" He notices Desmond staring at the crucifix above, something most visitors tend to do when coming to the front pew. "He came to this world as a sacrifice, so that we may have life," explains the priest in a deep authoritative voice.

"Aye," agrees Desmond, in reverence but not fully embracing the meaning.

"Have you come for your confession?" asks Mr. Ecko.

"No, Father." Desmond peers into the priest's eyes momentarily before sheepishly looking away, feeling guilty for not being a devout Catholic lately, but otherwise answering with a sincere heart. "I have come to deliver a message for Mrs. Eloise Hawking."

Eko nods, always familiar with the devoted Sister Hawking's whereabouts inside the church. "What eese the message?"

"That a sacrifice has been made, and that her son Daniel is alive and will be returning soon."

Eko's eyes widen at the announcement, esteeming Desmond as a modern day prophet. "Theese eese good news." He points to the door at the side of the sanctuary. "Please; go and tell her now. She will be delighted to hear!"

"Thank you, Father." Desmond exits through the door, leading into a hallway behind the sanctuary. He walks the hall, peering into empty offices and classrooms. "Hello? Anybody here?" his voice echoes off the brick walls. His pocket suddenly vibrates; he pulls out the compass and sees the north arrow spinning wildly. The door next to him is a utility closet with a warning sticker _Danger: High Voltage_. He jostles the handle, discovering it to be unlocked; he cautiously opens, revealing a hidden staircase winding downward like castle steps leading to a dungeon. He enters the doorway and slowly descends to the church basement.

* * *

><p><em>The Island<br>Year: 13 A.D._

Daniel and the young Islander hike several long hours through the jungle. They encounter a ring of stone columns, similar to Stonehenge but smaller, with a beautiful flower garden at the very center. Daniel's pocket vibrates; he pulls out the compass and sees the north arrow spinning wildly. "The energy pocket is right beneath us," Daniel says, stepping around randomly to find the location spinning the compass the most. "How long have you known about this place?"

"The garden has always been here," answers the Islander, appreciating its beauty rather than the science.

Daniel steps closer to the garden to investigate. "The Well hasn't been dug yet, which means I'm further back in time than I anticipated." He plucks a colorful flower from the garden and objectively examines the pedals like a scientist. The aroma suddenly entices his senses; he takes a whiff, refreshing his nostrils. "In the future, the stones are removed and a much larger garden is built on top of it; it's not nearly as beautiful as this one."

"But why?" asks the curious boy, offended the Island's sacred garden was ruined.

"They name the garden _the Orchid_. It was built only to disguise what people were really doing, which was working underneath the ground, using the energy pocket to manipulate time and space," Daniel explains.

"But why do they disguise what they're doing? Are they doing something wrong?" the boy asks, his endless questioning beginning to irritate Daniel.

Daniel pets Vincent on the head while thinking carefully how to answer. "Your questions will only lead to more questions, and I only have so much time until the sky flashes again. I'll be setting up camp close to here so I can work on constructing a passage down to the energy pocket. I need to get to it in order to bring my friends and I back to when we came from; back to the future. And after we leave, it will be up to you to save the Island."

The boy eagerly nods, willing to do whatever necessary for the protection of his sacred home. "Please tell me; how do I save the Island?"

Daniel pauses before answering, realizing it's an enormous task for such a young man. "After my friends and I leave, I will need you to bury the passage. Fill it completely back in, and remove the rocks and the garden and anything that marks this place. Plant trees from seeds in the surrounding woods, so it's disguised as normal ground. That way nobody from the future will ever find this place"

The Islander willfully accepts the task. "Yes, I will do this."

Daniel pats the young man on the head to thank him. He hands him the spinning compass and gives him one last instruction. "And for as long as you live, make sure Wells are never dug over any of the energy pockets. It was never meant for mankind to possess the power beneath this Island."

* * *

><p><em>Back at the Church<br>Year: 2007_

The dimly lit basement comes into view as Desmond descends the winding staircase. A large Foucault pendulum hangs dormant from the ceiling, completely motionless. In the center of the basement floor is a large map of the Pacific Ocean made of blue marble; chalk marks crisscross at random points around the map. Mounted into the wall is a console of rolling numeric displays signifying coordinate positions; an early green screen monitor on top of a desk shows a similar Pacific map with crisscrossing patterns.

A shrouded figure waits quietly at the far end of the room, lighting a row of candles with a wooden ember, and wearing a hooded robe like a medieval monk from the middle ages.

"Are you Eloise?" Desmond calls out from the bottom of the staircase, breaking through the eerie basement silence.

The hooded figure lights the last candle and extinguishes the wooden ember. "I've been expecting you, Hume," she replies.


	56. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p6

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**********-Part 6-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<strong>******  
><strong>

"It was never meant for mankind to possess the power beneath this Island," Daniel explains, his heavy words deeply permeating the young man's conscious. He kneels and tests the softness of the soil with his fingertips. "The energy pocket is extremely deep. I'll need tools to dig and explosives to break the rock. Do you have any metal tools or gunpowder?"

The young man tilts his head and wonders his eyes until they focus back on the compass in his hand. "What is gun? Or gunpowder?"

Daniel is suddenly distracted by a high pitch sound resonating in the sky. "Oh no, it's happening again," he mutters, looking up to the sky and pulling his beard from the chin. The sky brightens and the harsh sound pierces his ears.

"What's wrong?" asks the Islander, searching the calm blue sky with a clueless look. He's unable to share in the experience which Daniel is detecting through his senses, making him unaware of the countdown to an imminent time jump.

Daniel clutches his journal to ensure it stays with him. "I'll be leaving any second," he says unreasonably loud, like he's wearing headphones. "If you see my friends from the future tell them to look for me here, at the Orchid!" Daniel races his words out quickly, then vanishes suddenly.

The boy blinks rapidly, not trusting his own eyesight. "Hello?" he calls out, scanning the woods around him. "Where are you?" he calls louder, unsure whether his meeting with a man from the future was all in his imagination. He squeezes the compass to confirm his sense of reality. Suddenly, he steps on a leather journal; apparently, the man from the future was unable to hold on to his prize possession. He wipes the dirt off the cover and opens the pages; his mind instantly feasting on the abundance of scientific knowledge.

* * *

><p><em>Los Angeles, California<br>Year: 2007_

"I've been expecting you, Hume." She turns to Desmond and removes the hood of her cloak, revealing an elderly graceful woman with short silvery hair.

Desmond walks across the blue marble to the center of the Pacific map. He curiously tugs the cable to feel the weight of the pendulum; his eyes follow upward where the cable seems to disappear into the darkness of the dome shape ceiling. The vibration of the compass becomes too intense to hold in his pocket; he places it on the ground, and watches it jiggle across the map like a child's wind up toy.

"The energy pocket below us is causing your compass to move," explains Eloise. "This facility was built upon that pocket in order to track the location of the Island; a task I have given up for many years now."

"Given up?" asks Desmond, sensing discouragement in Eloise's voice.

"It's pointless, my dear." Eloise walks closer, her high heals click loudly as she steps to the blue marble. "I've given up looking for the Island, because even if I were successful in finding it, there's nobody I can send back there. It's been three years and the Oceanic Six have yet to return, which means everyone is dead, including my son Daniel."

"I have a message for you, Eloise," responds Desmond, his expression glowing.

Eloise gestures her hand outward to prevent him from speaking. "I know you do Hume, and you needn't tell me. I already knew the message was coming for quite some time. Like I said, it's pointless my dear."

Desmond ignores her reaction, sensing the message she was expecting is certainly not the message he has to give. "The message is that, your son is alive, and will be returning very soon." Desmond picks up his compass and moves off the map to prevent it from jumping out of his pocket again. "And furthermore; if your son is alive, I suspect the passengers of Oceanic 815 are alive as well."

Eloise drops her jaw, her eyebrows knot in suspicion. "My son Daniel? He told you this at the hatch door?"

Desmond shakes his head. "No, there was another man at the hatch door that day. He told me his name was _Christian_."

* * *

><p><em>The Island<br>Year: 815 A.D._

The flash in the sky dims back to normal daylight; Daniel Faraday opens his eyes to a drastically changed landscape. Gone are the Orchid's flower garden and the miniature Stonehenge; in its place is thick jungle filled with vines hanging all around him. "Oh no," Daniel mutters, after realizing his trusty journal has vanished from his grip.

The vines descend into a shadowy gap at the center of what used to be the flower garden. He clears the vines to investigate; a circle of bricks fortifies the entrance to a deep shaft. A rope ladder anchored at the top extends all the way down to the unseen bottom.

Suddenly, vegetation rustles from nearby and a white Labrador peaks his head out of the bushes. "Ruff! Ruff!" Vincent alerts his coming with a wagging tail.

"Hey Vincent! You're still alive?" Daniel kneels and becomes overwhelmed by the onslaught of facial licking.

The vegetation rustles again, and a man resembling Christian Shepherd emerges into view. In his hand is a wooden staff, inscribed with biblical passages and wound with rope at the top for hand grip. "Hello, Daniel," he addresses with a gentle voice.

His blue eyes and sharp jaw line are similar to the young Islander he met only moments ago. Daniel is amazed by the timing of their second encounter. "Have you seen my friends from the future?" asks Daniel.

Christian affirms with a nod. "They're safe now. All of them are with me." He pulls the aging compass from his pocket and shows Daniel; the metal is rusty and the water holding the arrow is cloudy.

"How long has it been?" asks Daniel, gauging time elapsed by the aged compass.

Christian chuckles beneath his breath. "Longer than you can ever imagine," he answers while petting Vincent to the head. "It's time for you to come home."


	57. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p7

x  
>x<p>

**********-Part 7-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<strong>********

"No, there was another man at the hatch door that day. He told me his name was _Christian_," explains Desmond.

"Christian?" responds Eloise, her tense forehead relaxes as she processes the unexpected news. "But the messenger at the hatch was supposed to be Daniel." She conceals her head once again with the hooded cloak then opens a tiny cloth sack filled with ash. "The sequence of events has changed."

"What events?" asks Desmond.

She sprinkles a pinch of ash over the candles; the powder burns quickly and produces a vivid flash. The flames mystically rise then instantly diminish back to normal. "The magic has returned. He must be using it to protect them."

"What magic? What are you talking about?" Desmond demands impatiently, as typical when he doesn't understand.

Eloise removes her hood and places the sack securely back in the cloak pocket. "It doesn't matter, Desmond; what does matter is how and when they leave the Island. The only option available is leaving through the portals."

"What portals are you talking about!" Desmond demands again, sweat beading from his forehead.

"Patience, my dear, patience; allow me to explain," she says moving over to the chalkboard. She erases the dizzying lines of physics equations then sketches a figure of a wheel with eight spokes extending outward as handles from its center. "Centuries ago, early discoverers of the Island built a wheeled mechanism which uses the Island's internal energy source to redirect its movement. Turning the mechanism is both dangerous and unpredictable."

She walks back to the computer terminal and types commands into the keyboard. The blocky graphics on the monitor screen shift around like a first generation Atari video game. The display zooms out and renders a grainy visualization of the earth's globe, much like a _Return of the Jedi_ Death Star graphic; six dots positioned equally across the sphere of the earth flash simultaneously, signifying the locations of the portals. "There are six unique pockets of energy distributed along the surface of the Earth; six opposing electromagnetic poles, each of them intricately linked together. Five are stationary. One of them, the centerpiece of them all, is always in motion."

Desmond observes one of the flashing blips on the screen disappear for a few seconds then reappear at a different point on the screen. "The one in motion must be the Island," he deduces.

"You are correct, my dear," she affirms like a strict teacher impressed with her burgeoning pupil. "The five stationary energy pockets serve as portals off the Island. Anyone who turns the mechanism is subject to teleportation and will reappear at any one of the five pockets."

Desmond watches the green globe with six dots rotate on the computer screen. "Where are the pockets located?" he asks curiously.

"One of them of course is just beneath our feet," she answers, her voice sharp again like a rigorous schoolteacher. "There's practically one per every major continent; North and South America, Africa, Australia, and Asia."

Desmond notices the North American blip on the screen transition to a bright red. The words _Warning: Anomaly Change_ _Detected_ scroll across the screen. "What is happening?" demands Desmond.

"Oh dear," gasps Eloise, holding her hand over her mouth. "A change to the anomaly means somebody has moved the Island, and according to the computer will be exiting the energy pocket beneath our feet at any moment!"

The ground tremors and loose particles from the ceiling rain down on to the floor. Paperclips, staples, pennies, and other random metal objects begin scooting across the marble floor to the center of the Pacific map. The lighting suddenly cuts off, turning the basement pitch black. A sparkling blue cloud of static electricity gathers at the ceiling and races down the pendulum cable; it spreads over the marble map then dissipates until the basement is pitch black again. Several seconds pass by and the lights flash back on; a beautiful woman with light freckles and brown hair lies unconscious at the map center, lying on her side and curled around the pendulum.

"Our visitor has arrived!" Eloise quickly pours a pitcher of water into a glass and kneels by her side. "Wake up my dear, wake up," she says, touching the cold water to her lips.

Desmond watches the entire event unfold from several feet away, cautiously stepping closer to look at the woman's face. "Wait a second; I know this woman. I've met her before on the Island."

She awakens suddenly, her first breath like coming up for air. She rapidly blinks as her eyes refocus to her new surroundings. The cold water to her lips is refreshing; she coughs at first then swallows several gulps. "Drink my dear, drink," Eloise encourages while tilting the glass. She turns her head; her eyes meet with Desmond's.

"Hello Kate," Desmond greets with a warm smile.

"Desmond," whispers Kate, her voice still weak.

Eloise is eager to find out who else is still alive and on the Island. "Are there any other survivors from Oceanic 815?"

"Yes." Kate straightens out of the fetal position then massages her temples to sooth the time traveling headache. "Jack, Sayid, Hurley, Jin, Sawyer; they're all there on the Island. The Others forced me at gunpoint into the Orchid and told me to move the Island."

"Is Daniel Faraday still alive?" asks Eloise, her voice trembling in anticipation.

"I watched him die, but that was before the Incident. Everything changed after we saved the Island," Kate explains.

Desmond can see Eloise is still troubled after hearing Kate's inconclusive answer. "Before Christian told me about Daniel, he told me that a _sacrifice has been made_. What do you think he meant?" Desmond asks Eloise.

Eloise is deep in thought, holding tight to the magical sack of cremation ash. "I suppose he meant one of the Oceanic passengers had to die."

"John Locke," answers Kate, clearing her throat with the last swig of water. "His death brought all of us back."

* * *

><p><em>On board Oceanic 815<br>2004_

A wave of turbulence jostles the airliner as it nears the opening window to the Island. The passengers remain calm; Benjamin Linus reads the final pages to his novel; Kate tends to pregnant Claire who is still passed out and leaned back in her seat. Jack stumbles up the aisle returning from the cockpit, trying to get back to his seat while holding pressure to his reappearing abdominal wound. He collapses to the floor and turns over on his back to rest.

Kate unbuckles quickly and kneels at his side. "Jack!" she cries out as his eyes slowly flutter shut. She looks to Locke and Ben in a panic, hoping for an explanation of what's happening. "He's not breathing!"

Ben finishes the final sentence to his novel then softly closes the hardcover. He removes his reading glasses and smirks in satisfaction. "We need you, John. You're our only hope in saving the Island."

"Me? Your only hope?" Locke sneers at Ben's comment, accusing him of flattery and suspecting he's scheming a plan with his own selfish interests in mind. "If you truly believed in me, then why did you kill me?"

"That's part of what makes you special. It was your death that brought all of us back."

Oceanic 815 enters the window of passage to the Island; the shaking halts, the roar from the jet engines silences as if they were coasting through outer space. A mysterious high pitch noise resonates all around them and grows steadily louder. The light coming through the cabin windows grows brighter; those next to a window peer out, looking in every direction to find where the source of light is originating. The high pitch noise grows deafening, and the mysterious light brighter.

And brighter.

And even brighter.

Locke turns his head and shields his eyes, still tempted but no longer able to look into the mesmerizing light.

Ben closes his eyes and smiles in anticipation of the unknown. "See you on the other side, John."

* * *

><p>Locke awakens suddenly to pitch darkness. He blinks, unsure whether or not his eyes are open. His pupils remain fully dilated straining for any evidence of light. His ears detect not even a sound; the absence of all sensation is disorienting. He squeezes his hands which are oddly crossed over his chest. "Hello?" he calls out, his voice muffled by the padded box enclosing him. His heart begins to race, his breathing faster; each breath warming the small limited space, the oxygen rapidly depleting. "Anybody there?" he calls out in desperation. He lifts his hands, feeling the padding just inches above his face; he pushes upward, his strength no match for the metal fasteners holding the box firmly together. "Help me!" he cries out, digging into the coffin padding with his fingernails.<p>

He hears a faint noise of footsteps; he freezes in his struggles to listen, hoping somebody is near that can free him from the box of death. He hears the snap of a metal latch, like a large suitcase unfastening; the snap occurs below his feet, then a snap at his knees, then his waist. At each release, a bright sliver of sunlight enters through a lengthening hairline opening. The latches release near his head; he feels a refreshing draft of air enter the enlarging gap. And finally the coffin opens; the hinges creak as the heavy wood swings upward and back. A man appearing as Christian Shepherd stands over him; a white Labrador peaks his head over the coffin side and kisses John's ear.

Locke shields his eyes to the blinding sun; his eyes quickly adjust, the familiar sight and smell of Island rainforest surrounds them. "It's good to see you John," Christian greets with a warm smile. "Welcome back to the Island."


	58. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p8

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>x<p>

**********-Part 8-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<strong>********

"Welcome back to the Island," Christian greets with a warm smile.

Locke sits upright in the casket, taking several deep breaths of refreshing rainforest air to recover from his terrifying ordeal of claustrophobia. He's sweating profusely; his uncomfortable wardrobe far better fitting for a funeral service than for a tropical Island. He removes his jacket and tosses his tie into the casket. "How in the world did I get inside here?" he demands, still breathing heavily.

A ring of ash encircles the coffin; Christian kneels and sifts his fingers through the fine substance. "You were on board an airliner flying over the Island. I brought you down here so you could finish the work you were chosen to do."

"I can't remember anything," Locke replies, panicky from his time travel amnesia. He looks to the sky listening for jet engine rumblings while massaging his sore neck. "And I feel like somebody just strangled me to death."

"You should have never trusted Benjamin Linus." Christian's comment reminds Locke of his own murder in the Los Angeles hotel room. "I will deal with him later. Fortunately for now, he's not here with the rest of your friends."

"My friends?" asks Locke, massaging his baldness. "You mean everyone I begged to come back to the Island actually came back?"

"Like Richard said, you had to die to convince them. It was a sacrifice the Island required," Christian explains.

Locke looks down to his shiny black dress shoes and concentrates on moving his toes. "I can't feel my toes. I can't move my legs!"

"It will take some time for you to walk again." Christian kneels next to Locke, suddenly sticking him with a syringe to the thigh.

"Ouch!"

He injects the full dosage of serum before Locke has a chance to struggle. "Sorry, but this will help speed the process of recovery."

"Speed the process? But isn't the Island supposed to heal me?" Locke asks, dazed from the unsuspecting poke.

"It already has healed you, but you're having trouble remembering. The serum will help your mind to adjust." Christian helps him stand to his feet and step out of the coffin; Locke's legs wobble out of control as he tries maintaining his balance. Christian wraps his arms around Locke's waist, hoisting him over his shoulders like a soldier carrying an injured comrade. "For now, I'll carry you where you need to go."

The serum spreads throughout Locke's bloodstream, sapping his energy like a tranquilizer as it reacts with his nervous system. His head and arms loosely dangle as Christian carries him through the woods; he closes his eyes and falls into a state of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p><em>Los Angeles, California<br>The Lamp Post  
>2007<em>

Kate slowly gathers herself from the blue marble floor, still recovering from Island teleportation. Desmond offers his arm for assistance; she stands hunched over, supporting herself with her hands on her knees. She glances around the station at the unusual pieces of Dharma equipment; the sketch of a large octagonal wheel on the chalkboard catches her eye. "That looks like the wheel I turned," she says, pointing to the chalkboard. "The chamber was frozen over with frost; I had to use a crowbar to get it unstuck."

Desmond glances to the computer monitor, hoping for the indication of another survivor using the exit portal. "Is anyone else coming?"

"Perhaps we'll never know," Eloise answers halfheartedly, trying hard to hide her disappointment that Daniel wasn't the one to first appear. "As I told you before, turning the mechanism yields results which are _very unpredictable_," she explains, unconvinced, pressing her hand against her heart like a mother missing her son. "Now that time on the Island has shifted, there's no telling _when_ the other survivors will appear if they ever leave."

Desmond and Kate exchange glances, their hearts crushed at the possibility of never seeing their Island friends again. Kate's eyes swell with tears; although forced at gunpoint to turn the wheel, she's remorseful for being the cause of them possibly being lost in another time.

The notch along Desmond's nose tightens. "So what do we do now?" he asks, desperate to help.

"We wait," she answers bluntly. "I hope the man you spoke with at the hatch door knows what he's doing." She meditates briefly on the flickering candles to regain her composure then offers a final word of encouragement. "If the Oceanic survivors saved the Island, perhaps the Island will return the favor by bringing them back home."

* * *

><p><em>Hydra Island<br>1977_

John Locke's eyes snap open. His pupils adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting hanging above him. He's lying on a thin mattress which feels like an operating table; a plastic id bracelet stamped "Patient 8" is wrapped around his wrist. The tension of an oxygen mask pinches his neck as he picks his head up to orient himself. He removes the mask and looks down at his toes exposed at the end of the bed; he wiggles them effortlessly, the sensation to his legs totally restored.

"Hello, John," Christian welcomes him back again, sitting in a chair next to the door. "You're inside the Hydra, on Hydra Island. Your friends are waiting for you down the hall."

Locke wiggles his toes and places his feet to the floor, eager to see his friends and to use his legs again to walk. He slips on the uncomfortable dress shoes sitting next to the bed. "Now that all of us are back, has the Island been saved?"

"Not yet. You still have work to do," Christian answers, hoping Locke is willing to sacrifice even further. "The flashes stopped when you placed the wheel back on axis, but something far worse has happened to the Island."

"What happened?" Locke asks, hoping his efforts to bring everyone back at least meant something.

Christian approaches, placing a hand to his shoulder before sending him on his next crucial mission. "Make a left out the door, and go as far as you can down the hallway until you find the surveillance room. You'll find a woman inside searching the Hydra for survivors; her name is Theresa Spencer. She will answer your questions about what happened to the Island."

Locke tenses his forehead, struggling to understand. "But why does…"

"Listen carefully," Christian cuts him off and instructs further. "After you speak with her, gather all of your friends, including Claire; she's also here. Bring them back to the main Island and look for the cabin; it's in a clearing adjacent to Incident site. You'll see a circle of ash on the ground; it's the same substance surrounding your coffin. DO NOT cross over it until _all of them_ are brought back to me."

Locke peaks his head out the door to look down the stretch of hallway; he discovers a gruesome sight of dead bodies strewn about the floor. "What happened?" he gasps, but the mysterious man from the cabin is no longer there.

* * *

><p><em>The Lamp Post<br>2007_

"If the Oceanic survivors saved the Island, perhaps the Island will return the favor by bringing them back home."

*ring* *ring*

A black phone mounted on the wall next to the computer suddenly rings, breaking the candle light silence of the church basement.

"Oh Dear," says Eloise, startled by the alarm clock sounding ring, pressing her chest. "That phone hasn't rung for over a decade. It is a direct connection to the offices of the Dharma Initiative."

*ring* *ring*

"Dharma? You mean it connects to the Island?" Kate concludes.

"No, my Dear. Dharma Initiative headquarters are located in Ann Arbor, Michigan."

*ring* *ring*

Eloise blows the dust off the receiver before answering. "Hello, you've reached the Lamp Post."

"Hello, Elly."

Eloise takes a breath before responding. It's been three years since anyone has called her by her Island nickname. "Hello Charles," she replies.

"Has Hume arrived?"

"Yes," she whispers, subtly glancing to Desmond. "And so has our first arrival from the Island; Katherine Austen. I'll be looking out for any other changes to the anomaly; hopefully, other survivors will be arriving. Why are you calling?"

"I have good news. Jack's patient, Theresa Spencer, has awakened from her coma."

* * *

><p><em>Hydra Island<br>1977_

Claire locks eyes with Jack. "Where is John Locke?"

She sits up to stretch; her arm muscles bulge as she flexes her shoulders. Her figure is solid and lean. The once frail and dependent girl is barely recognizable; the pounds of pregnancy melted away after years of lone Island survival.

The unexpected question throws Jack off guard. His throat tightens as he struggles to answer. "Locke's dead," he says, his tone apologetic. "The police found his body in a Los Angeles hotel."

Hurley nudges Jack on the shoulder. "Actually dude, I know he like really died, but Jin and I found him, like, actually breathing man. He's down the hall." Hurley darts eyes with Kate and Sawyer to watch their reactions of suspicion.

Sawyer crosses his arms and grunts. "You seein' ghosts again, Hugo?"

"Shut up dude."

Jack steps forward to defend him. "He couldn't be a ghost, Sawyer. Jin saw him too."

Jin nods enthusiastically. "Come. I show you."

"I don't believe this," Kate remarks. Finding Claire was a miracle she could believe in; seeing somebody come back from the dead is something entirely different. She squints her eyes in disbelief and stands next to Sawyer to join the team of doubters. "Jack. Think about it. Dead or alive, how could Locke even be on the Island? His body is still in a coffin back in Los Angeles."

"No Kate, it's not." Jack runs his fingers through the hair on the back of his head. He knows what he did is going to sound crazy. "Locke said all of us had to come back, including him."

Kate raises her eyebrows.

"I put his coffin on the plane."

"You what?"

Jack swallows, thinking of another more rational way of saying what he just said; there's no way around it. "Locke's body isn't in L.A. because I put his coffin on the plane."

Claire slides out from the hospital bed and tightens her shoe laces. "Take me to the plane, right now," she demands.

"It's not here, Claire," Kate explains, shaking her head. "It's 1977. Somehow all of us moved back in time."

"I know. The man in the cabin told me."

Suddenly, the sound of heavy breathing approaches the doorway. The footsteps grow louder; much louder than shoes with rubber soles; more like the hardened bottoms of typical men's leather dress shoes.

Kate holds her breath and moves closer to Jack. The footsteps pause, but the heavy breathing continues. A shadow crosses the threshold of the door.

Sawyer clears the bangs from his eyes and clenches his fist. "Show yourself! Who the hell's out there?" he yells.

John Locke steps into view with an unconscious woman draped over his shoulder. Sweat beads down his face and drenches his shirt. The moment reminds Jack of when Locke returned to beach camp with a boar over his shoulder; ironically, he was believed to be dead at that time too.

"Welcome back, dude," says Hurley.

Locke brushes the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "Hello," he says, still short of breath from carrying the woman. She has blonde hair, and her nose is bleeding; Jack immediately recognizes her as the woman in the hazmat suit.

Locke nods and stares to Jack. "I believe I found the person you were looking for."

He carries her in like a soldier carrying the wounded, holding her steady by grasping her calves to his chest. Her head sways freely; her arms dangle like lifeless limbs. Her wavy hair flows freely down his back. Jack races to action like an ER physician; his concern for her diminishes the shock of seeing John Locke alive. He offers his shoulder to help carry her to the hospital bed Claire came out of.

"I found her face down in the hall," he says breathless and relieved to finally place her down. "Good to see you, Jack," he says with a pause to catch his breath.

Jack grabs a stethoscope off a nearby shelf and leans over the bed. Her pulse is weak and her breathing shallow. "Did she tell you anything?" he asks as he moves the stethoscope around her chest.

Locke nods while taking several more breaths. "She told me _everything_, Jack."

* * *

><p><em>The Cabin-Ash Perimeter<br>1977_

Locke watches his friends from the outside looking in; like watching fish in a fish bowl, the image he sees of them is slightly distorted. He pokes and pulls back his index finger through the translucent force field; the liquid-like energy momentarily sticks to his skin then snaps back into place, a circular wave of light pulsates along the field in every direction.

Locke licks his fingertips the same way he tasted the sap from the boar tree. "Unfortunately, this isn't over yet. Claire got away. I still need to track her down." Everyone is dumbfounded by his remark; apparently, Locke and Christian agreed upon a plan nobody else was aware of.

Christian approaches the group with Vincent at his side; his stride is calm, his tone peaceful and undemanding. "Do not be troubled, John. She's found her way to the cabin before; she will find her way again."

Locke cautiously approaches the ash line, his feet only inches away. He looks to Christian for permission to cross over.

"Yes, John. Come and join us. It's time for you to save the Island."

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings readers! Hope you're enjoying! Little sidenote.. I hope you recognized the scene from Chapters 23+24, where Locke meets back up with his fellow Losties.. Things are slowly piecing together!<strong>


	59. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p9

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>x<p>

**********-Part 9-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<strong>********

Jack grabs his chest while leaning on Kate for support; his eyes locked in a stare with his dead father standing on the cabin porch. The inevitability of his Island chase finally captured. The white rabbit; the Island's version of his deceased father; an illusive figure tantalizing his every thought since the crash. A spirit-like being willfully communicating with John Locke but eluding his own son. His rabbit hole could only go so deep; the bottom of it reached at a cabin in the woods surrounded by ash.

"Yes, John. Come and join us. It's time for you to save the Island."

Locke cautiously comes forward and straddles the ash; apparently the magic reacts differently to his presence. His movement into the dome sends out bursts of sparkling light in every direction. The sound during penetration sounds like a twirling Jedi light saber. He fights through the force field by using a swimming like motion, finally clearing the energy barrier and landing on his two feet. He brushes the glowing pixie dust particles off his chest and shoulders.

Jack gets a closer view of Christian during Locke's spectacular entry. His hair color is light brown instead of grey, his face smooth and unwrinkled; it's how he remembers his dad growing up as a child, perhaps he's even younger than Jack is now. The whole experience for Jack seems like a dream; seeing both John Locke and his father resurrected inside a heavenly dome leads him to form a logical, yet unscientific, conclusion. "Are we dead?" he blurts out, feeling ridiculous.

Christian grins, shaking his head. "Everyone is alive. However, in this place, time doesn't matter."

Jack straightens his posture, his breathing less rapid and relaxed. He checks the once painful wound on his abdomen and sees the skin has completely healed over, a raised purplish scar in its place. He looks again into his father's eyes. "How are you here?"

Christian tenderly grips Jack's shoulder; much like his father used to do when he was telling him something important. "This might be difficult for you to accept, but I'm _not_ your father, Jack."

Jack stumbles back, fully in denial, looking him over from head to toe; every minute detail reminiscent of his dad. "I don't understand. _You are_ my father."

"I'm sorry." Christian tilts his head to the side, remorseful for all the confusion this has caused him. "Your father died in Sydney, but I've been miraculously given his appearance and memories."

"Memories?" Jack's face tenses with anger, feeling emotionally betrayed by the Island's form of trickery. "Who are you?" he demands, his voice shaky.

"Someone who has been on this Island a very long time, and I'm here now to help all of you save it," he answers.

Locke perks his ears at the mention of Island saving, eager to get started. "I'm ready."

Christian kneels next to the perimeter and scoops a handful of ash into a cloth pouch. "Take this with you, John, into the cabin. There's a row of candles on a table; sprinkle the ash over the flames and somebody will appear shortly after to speak with you."

Locke secures the pouch in his pant pocket and steps on to the cabin porch. He looks back to his friends to wave farewell before entering.

Hurley gulps; thankful he doesn't have to join him. "Sorry dude, looks like you're going in alone again."

"He's been waiting a very long time, John," Christian announces.

Locke's expression turns bitter. "Well, so have I," he grumbles, considering his own level of sacrifice. "This is my third visit to the cabin; hopefully, it will be my last." He reaches for the door and turns the knob. The hinges creak as the door opens; the dim candlelight on the table just bright enough to illuminate his path inside.

* * *

><p><em>On board "Our Mutual Friend"<br>Long Beach Marina, California  
>Year: 2007<em>

The sailboat is docked safely at the marina, floating at a standstill in the calm waters of the harbor. Desmond mumbles and fidgets while sleeping, suddenly awaking in bed. He remains calm, trying not wake Penny like he did after his previous vision the night before. He feels a dull pain along his abdomen. He lifts his shirt and notices a raised purplish scar along the left side.

Penny awakens and flips on the lamp next to the bed. "Not again," she whispers, her eyes filled with concern. She scoots in closer and kisses his shoulder. "Another memory of the Island?" she figures.

He lowers his shirt discretely, hoping Penny didn't see the scar. "I was with Jack, but it wasn't on the Island," he answers, concentrating on his vision while it's still vivid in his mind. "We were inside the church."

"Yes?" she asks, wanting to know further details.

"I don't know, Pen." He fits on his slippers and walks toward the stairwell. "I think I need some fresh air."

"Alright, but don't be long dear. It's still very early."

Desmond climbs the stairs leading to the deck, opening the door to the moonlit night.

* * *

><p><em>Inside the Cabin<em>

Locke slowly makes his way toward the candlelight, unable to see around him, the wooden planks beneath his feet creak at every step. He places the ash pouch on the table and takes a seat on a stool.

A picture frame suddenly falls off the wall and the candles flicker as if there were a sudden draft. "_Help me_," a deep echoing voice calls, originating from a chair at the opposite side of the table.

"I'm trying to," Locke replies, unfazed by the creepiness. He scoops the ash from the pouch and sprinkles it over the candles; the powder burns quickly and produces a vivid flash. The flames mystically rise, increasing visibility inside the cabin. A ghostly entity gradually fades into view. He's bearded with long grey hair streaming from the sides of his head. He's completely bald on top; his skin aged and wrinkled. His face is round, and a thin scar is visible on his right eye; starting diagonally from his forehead, then below the eye.

Locke gasps, contemplating who might be at the other end of the table. He touches the skin above his own eye, remembering the gash he received from the crash. The scars seem to be identical in shape and size. "Are you…me?" Locke asks, wide-eyed.

The ghostly figure gives a chilling smile and lays his shackled wrists on the table; the movement of chains and metal shackles makes the cabin sound like a prison cell. "It will be good to finally be out of these chains," he says.

* * *

><p><em>On board "Our Mutual Friend"<em>

Desmond walks out on the deck, taking a fresh dose of early morning ocean scented air. He feels the purplish scar along his abdomen while concentrating again on his vision.

An elderly man with a long flowing beard approaches from the dock. His pace is slow and steady; he's using a wooden staff with bible verse carvings to help with his balance. "A sacrifice was required from all of us, Desmond," he says, his speech slow and gruff.

Desmond is startled by the old man; it's unusual somebody would be walking the boat docks this early in the morning. The moonlight reveals the man's face as he approaches; a faint scar crosses his right eye, starting diagonally from his forehead, then below the eye.

"Who the hell are you?" Desmond calls from the deck of his boat.

"My name is John Locke, and I've come to ask you a favor."


	60. A Sacrifice the Island Demands p10

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**********-Part 10-  
>A Sacrifice the Island Demands<strong>********

"It will be good to finally be out of these chains," says the elderly cabin prisoner, who somehow mysteriously shares an uncanny resemblance to John Locke.

"No, this can't be happening! You can't be me!" Locke declares, terrified at the thought of the man trapped inside the cabin being himself the entire time. "I came to the cabin to speak with Jacob. Where is he?"

"Jacob's dead; and unfortunately, so am I. And although I appear as you; _I'm not you_. I took on your appearance several days before my death. I had a loophole plan to kill Jacob, which would allow me to finally leave this Island."

"But why leave in the first place?" Locke asks, perplexed.

"Because I'm not from here; I came from _across the sea_, and so did Jacob. And after growing up on the Island, I stopped believing it was important. I only saw it as a means to an end, and not as something sacred." The ghostly man raises his shackled wrists into the air; the chains of imprisonment clank across the table. "But as you can see; I was wrong, and Jacob was right, and I have paid the price ever since."

Locke sympathizes with him after hearing his heartfelt story of imprisonment, especially after his acknowledgement of the Island's sacredness. "It seems Jacob and I have a lot in common. I've been telling all of my friends how special this Island is ever since we came here, and the only way I could convince them was me dying."

"I know, John; and because you died, that makes you _the key_ to setting me free," the man explains, pointing to the keyhole in the thick iron lock binding the chains together.

Locke stands from his stool, backing away from the table, suspecting a possible trap. "You killed Jacob. So why would I want to help you?"

"Because I'm the only one that knows how to save the Island," he answers, smiling confidently.

Locke pulls back a dusty curtain and points outside the window. "My friend, I don't know if you're aware of what's happening outside the ash surrounding this cabin, but the Island is dying all around us. There are earthquakes, toxic fumes, radiation; this time, it's going to take a lot more than moving the Island to save it."

The flames from the candles diminish, and so does visibility inside the cabin. The ghostly character leans closer to the candlelight to share another fire side story. "When Jacob and I were young, we were shown a very special place on the Island; a stream flowing into an opening on the side of a rock cliff. The light emanating from inside this hole was very beautiful, and is the very source of the energy men seek to harness on this Island. Jacob took on the role of protecting this light."

Locke leans closer to the candlelight and responds softly with a question. "That's a very nice story, but what does it have to do with saving the Island?"

The ghost lunges forward and grasps Locke's arm, just within his reach of the chains constricting him; his grip just as solid as if he were solid himself. "The light from that source is going out, and you're the only one that can help! I'm not asking you to move the Island, John; I'm asking you to move the _heart_ of the Island."

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings readers! sorry this is getting so bizarre...promise no smoke monsters, but MIB coming back was a necessity. He helped build the donkey wheel, so he has great scientific understanding of Island physics...channeling the water and the light. I love the irony of it all; MIB once wanted to destroy Island, but he will find redemption in helping to save it. Please stick with, lots of action ahead! Chapter 61 will be Saving the Island Part 1, great timing for this to be 10 chapters, easy to keep the numbering<strong>


	61. Saving the Island p1

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**********-Part 1-  
>Saving the Island<br>**********

The light generated inside the protective dome glows dimly orange like a perpetually setting sun. It's been a long grueling day for the six remaining Oceanic survivors Jack, Kate, Hurley, Sayid, Sawyer, and Jin. They wait outside the cabin for John Locke to return with instructions on how to save the Island. A cricket in the overgrown vegetation surrounding the cabin begins to chirp; the noise escalates to a steady hum as more and more crickets join into a chirping chorus.

Sayid lifts his shirt to check on his gunshot wounds; each of them miraculously healed over with raised purplish scars. He looks over to Christian, bewildered by the man shrouded in mystery who's working hard at keeping all of them safe.

"Why Jack?" asks Sayid.

Christian raises his right hand and closes his fist, instantly silencing the cabin crickets. "I beg your pardon?" he replies politely.

"_Why Jack_?" Sayid repeats a little louder, his words crisp and no longer hindered by sounds of nature. "My father died many years ago, and so did Sawyer's. So why imitate Jack's father, and not mine? Or Sawyer's?"

"Each of you needed a reason to come back to the Island." Christian's mannerisms are so convincing of his father, Jack looks away to keep his sanity. "For Kate; it was finding Claire. For Hurley; he didn't want to lie about the Island anymore. For you Sayid; well, you were so stubborn Jacob recruited Ilana for her expertise. And for Jack; he was looking for his father."

"Interesting." Sayid suspiciously looks him over and resumes his role as the camp interrogator; the man's response to Sayid's question seems honest but reveals nothing about his own motives. "And I suppose _your reason_ for taking on somebody else's appearance is to keep your true identity concealed."

Christian holds up both his hands as a gesture of surrender. "I have nothing to hide," he answers looking in Jack's direction, his tone again apologetic. "The Island made me this way."

Suddenly, the candlelight perched inside the cabin window falls dim. The clanking of metal chains can be heard running across the cabin's wooden floor.

"If you have nothing to hide then answer us truthfully; who is John meeting with inside the cabin?" Sayid asks, frozen in stance.

"Dude, that's an easy one; it's Jacob," Hurley interjects.

"No, Hugo," Christian gently corrects him. "The man inside the cabin is Jacob's brother. He's a prisoner from another timeline. After his death, his soul was held captive by the Island as penance for all his evil deeds done to mankind. The only person that has the power to set him free is John Locke."

"Prisoner?" Sawyer rams his shoulder up against the energy barrier like he's forcing open a door; the magical material from the inside is as solid as steel. "This dome of yours supposed to keep stuff out or keep all of us in?"

"Trust me, it's for your protection, James," Christian explains. "Only John Locke is allowed to cross back over the ash, and when he does, Jacob's brother will be released."

Suddenly, the cabin door creaks open. Locke emerges from the dark interior and rejoins his friends waiting for him. "The Heart of the Island is in danger, and it's our job to make sure it's properly relocated," he explains to the group circling around him.

Hurley darts eyes with Christian and Locke. "Umm dudes, what's the Heart of the Island?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out." Locke looks to Christian, hoping for directions to the mystical place. "He told me I need to retrieve the stone plug from the pool of water, but he doesn't know where the Heart of the Island is located. All he said was to look for the stream running through the bamboo patch."

"He doesn't know where the Heart is because Jacob kept it hidden from him," Christian explains. "After you cross over, I will do everything I can to help guide you."

Locke steps close to the ash to test the energy barrier; unlike Sawyer, it allows his fingers to pass easily through.

"Good luck, John." Christian approaches and gives one final set of instructions. "If you find yourself in trouble and need to get back to the cabin, follow the whispers."

Locke nods and exchanges a final glance with Jack. "I'll see you soon." He straddles the ash then instantly vanishes before their eyes.

* * *

><p><em>The Island, 1977<br>72 hours before the Incident_

Locke sets his feet to the ground and takes his first breath on the other side. The landscape around him shifts instantaneously. A clap of thunder rumbles overhead followed by a downpour of rain; he raises his hands to feel the crisp droplets. He looks back to see if his friends are watching but the ash and cabin are no longer there.

The rain ceases and the sunlight heats the settling mist. The muddy ground he's standing upon is disturbed with rows of tire tracks. He follows them shortly to an excavation area bustling with construction activity. It's the early beginnings of the Swan site. Bulldozers and dump trucks rev their diesel engines while reshaping the soil. A metal support rig for a drill is being hoisted into place by a crane. Construction workers pour concrete into the walls of a steal reinforced dome.

A Volkswagen van carrying a crew of Dharma scientists sputters along the muddy roadway and parks close to the construction site. They exit the vehicle and place on their hardhats. The shaggy bearded scientist who drove the van wears a navy blue jumpsuit and thick glasses; he looks up to the sky to check the intermittent weather. "What is it with this damn weather on the Island? I can't afford anymore rain delays on the construction site!"

Despite his arrogance, Locke is thrilled to see the scientist again who might be able to assist him with his mission. "Radzinsky!" he calls out. He approaches and tones down his eagerness after realizing this is actually their first introduction. "Good to see you alive. I'm hoping you can help me, considering what I'm about to do for you."

Radzinsky's face turns flush with anger. "Hey you!" he screams.

Locke freezes and points to himself. "Me?"

"What are you doing on my site?" he demands, droplets of angry spit spraying from his mouth. "This area is restricted!" The crew of scientists gang together to overpower the intruder.

"Wait! Please let me explain!" Locke holds his hands outward to brace himself from the impending group tackle. He closes his eyes at the point of impact, and astoundingly, suffers no impact. A feeling like static electricity mixed with a cool wind passes through his body. He opens his eyes and realizes the scientists have passed right through him as if he were a ghost. He looks down in disbelief, patting his arms and chest to make sure he's still a solid body.

Locke turns around, dazed and confused. Apparently his bodily form is undetectable and the scientists are actually trying to stop the man standing behind him.

"Wait! I can explain," the geeky intruder with a tie pleads, raising his hands in surrender after slapping his science journal shut. "My name is Daniel Faraday. I'm one of the physicists sent here from Michigan. Dr. Chang gave me permission to enter the site, Sir."

Radzinsky adjusts his glasses while examining Daniel's Dharma Identification badge. "You people from Michigan don't understand anything about this Island! What are you doing here?"

Daniel thumbs through the pages of his journal, searching for the right page. "I'm here to ask you to reconsider, sir."

"Reconsider?" Radzinsky replies, his glasses partially fogged.

Daniel finds the right page and points to a physics formula estimating energy release. "Reconsider the potential consequences of drilling into such a massive pocket of energy."

Radzinsky and his fellow colleagues exchange glances and sneer at Faraday's remark. "I have been working on this project for six years, and you people come all the way from Michigan and want to shut me down? Because you're afraid of the consequences of drilling through some damn rock? We are on the verge of using electromagnetism to manipulate time in ways we only dreamed of!"

Daniel closes the journal, shaking his head, his expression apprehensive. "What if I told you, that because of the energy released at this site; a man will be stuck living inside of a hatch pushing a release button for over 20 years, eventually ending his own life with a shotgun to his head."

Radzinsky's glasses fog over completely; he takes them off and wipes away the moisture with his shirt. "I suppose that's the price of progress."

Suddenly, a call comes though his hand held radio. "Dr. Radzinsky, the drill is in place over the pocket. Should we fire it up? Over."

Radzinsky raises the radio to his mouth and holds down the receiver button. "It's about time. Set the drill at full power. Over."

Locke steps in between and speaks to Faraday; the sounds of construction in the background prevent his whispering presence from being detected. "Radzinsky had his chance. Unfortunately, his fate is sealed on this Island. Jacob's brother was at least half right; we come, we kill, we destroy. Fortunately, this time, it doesn't have to end the same."

Locke walks down into the construction site to look for items he can use for his journey. He sees a flashlight next to one of the toolboxes and stoops down to pick it up; his ghostly hands pass right through it.

*Sigh* "This is going to be more difficult than I thought."


	62. Saving the Island p2

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**********-Part 2-  
>Saving the Island<strong>********

"I'll see you soon."

Locke exchanges a final glance with Jack before leaving to retrieve the ancient stone plug from the Heart of the Island. He penetrates the dome with his leg and suddenly, like smoke sucked into a vacuum, gets whisked away instantly. His crossing back over sets off a chain reaction of events inside the dome; the sun setting glow transitions to light blue, the deteriorating cabin morphs into a newly constructed abode, exactly as it once was when Horrace first built it. Its windows clean and unbroken, the vines covering the walls magically wither away, and the cabin's tilt straightens to perfectly horizontal.

The door swings open to a softly lit interior, the hinges smooth and absent of creaking. A man wearing all black emerges; his clothes crafted from hand woven cloth, his leather sandals like those worn by first century Romans. He looks himself over, patting his arms and chest in disbelief. His body has been restored to his original adult form, no longer having the appearance of John Locke. The lock holding the shackles to his wrist disengages; the chains loosen and fall to the ground. He holds his fingers close to his face then backs them away; his eyes refocus to allow depth perception. "I'm alive," he mutters, chuckling to himself. "I'm alive!"

Sawyer covers his grin while brainstorming nicknames for the man who looks like a character from a Greek tragedy and behaving like Frankenstein. "Hey, Oedipus. Being alive don't mean much if all of us are stuck inside a dome for the rest of our lives. You mind telling us what a pool plug has to do with saving the Island?"

At first, the Man in Black takes offense to Sawyer's name calling, but he shares in his frustration for being stuck on the Island. "Allow me to explain," he replies, picking up one of the loosened chains. He twirls it over his head like a Roman Gladiator; the group tenses, unsure if he's planning to sling the chain at them as some kind of weapon. After several fast rotations, he lets go; sending the chains hurling away from the group and towards the middle of the clearing. The spinning chains change direction like a boomerang; an unseen force pulls it toward an ancient Well constructed in the middle of the clearing. The chains land sideways on the brick and cling to it magnetically; a static buzz emanates a sound like a high voltage wire.

Hurley raises his eyebrows. "Whoa. That was cool."

"The answer to your question lies at the bottom of the Well," says MIB, guiding everyone over to the ancient Well shaft. "Before you come any closer; if you're carrying something made of metal, hold on to it tightly."

Sawyer feels movement in his pants and feels inside of his pocket. He's been so concerned about survival, he completely forgot about Juliet's engagement ring he's carried with him ever since he left Juliet's body behind on Hydra Island. He places it on his pinky finger for safe keeping. "Don't want to lose this," he says to Kate, caught off guard admiring.

The group congregates around the Well and cautiously leans in, placing their hands on the ancient bricks and looking down into the dark earthen void. A single beam of glimmering light shines upward from the deep, much like a lone star in the night sky but from below. The Man in Black dangles the chain down the Well to demonstrate the force of pull; the links stiffen and rattle from fluctuations in the magnetic field. "Centuries ago, ancient people inhabiting the Island discovered places in which metals behaved strangely. Each time they found one of these sites, they would dig. When the men digging this Well found the light, the bedrock prevented them from ever reaching it."

Sayid measures the level of radioactivity with the radiation sensor he took from Radzinsky. "The energy dosage is high, but safe in terms of human exposure," he explains, analyzing the readings.

MIB continues his explanation, agreeing with Sayid's assessment. "Unfortunately, men from your time period used powerful machines to penetrate the bedrock, which released the pocket of energy."

"That's why I dropped the bomb," Jack answers, feeling justified for his actions at the Incident site.

"No more bombs or buttons," Christian declares. "Moving the Island's heart will not only save the Island, but everyone you lost on the Island."

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings readers! Sorry so short.. I had to publish something to keep my writing momentum going. I have so much more to write! Unfortunately, I'm experiencing major writer's block. I know exactly where I want to bring the story but having difficulty expressing it. I'm not giving up.. I've brought this story so far.. Believe me, there are so many great scenes to come that I have already imagined, the difficulty is building the bridge to the next one, and the next, and next.. Thanks so much to all my readers for your comments and support! I'll try to get you something soon. I think about this story all the time.. Special shout out to MARLA! -bobt<strong>


	63. Saving the Island p3

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**********-Part 3-  
>Saving the Island<strong>********

_72 hours before the Incident_

Locke sighs after his hand passes through the flashlight he tries picking up. "This is going to be more difficult than I thought."

A dump truck carrying a load of fresh dirt rumbles close by. Locke steps out in front of it, crossing his arms and looking the driver straight in the eye. He stands his ground as the heat radiating from the diesel engine closes in; suddenly, the temperature cools as a static wind passes through his body. The sights and sounds of moving metallic parts envelop his senses as he passes through layers of steel and diesel machinery. He pats his arms and chest after exiting the truck's rear axle, finding himself completely untouched. "This is going to take a little getting used to," he chuckles, brushing dirt off of his shoulders.

He walks over to the drill positioned over an ancient well. Construction workers have dismantled the bricks encircling the shaft, making the hole flush with the ground. They mount another extension to the drill, enabling it to extend all the way to the bottom. The group of scientists comes over to inspect the rigging; Radzinsky stares down the Well, eying the beautiful sparkle of light glimmering from the deep. "Make sure you center the drill over the light!"

Daniel Faraday rejoins the scientists with his journal open to a diagram describing the Island's geology. "Perhaps the people who dug the Well realized it would be unsafe to release the light."

"Oh yeah? Or maybe it was because they couldn't dig all the way through with the archaic tools they were using!" Radzinsky responds, annoyed the persistent geek from Michigan still lingers. "And I'm here to finish what they started!"

Daniel droops his head, discouraged that his science colleagues fail to heed his warning. He flips to the next page of his journal and sees the schematic diagram of a nuclear bomb. "It's time to go look for my mother."

Locke glances down the shaft one last time and repeats a similar sentiment. "And it's time for me to find Jack's father." He walks away from the Well, again passing through people and objects in his way. He stumbles on the pile of ancient bricks the workers removed from the Well. He kneels to check his stubbed toe and taps the bricks with his fingers, confirming the first solid objects he's come across which he can't pass through. "Interesting. It must be because the bricks are very old," he figures. He finds a long length of rope laying next the bricks, apparently once used for access to the Well during ancient times. He smiles as his hand successfully grasps it. "This will definitely come in handy," he says as he hoists the rope over his shoulders.

* * *

><p><em>Inside the protective dome<em>

MIB picks up the end of an ancient rope and threads it through a wooden pulley system placed over the Well. He yanks through several feet of slack then ties a loophole at the end.

"Dude," Hurley gulps, his hands sweating looking down the shaft.

Sayid stops fiddling with the radiation sensor and looks to the man wearing black. "Are you seriously considering descending the shaft or are you hoping for a volunteer?"

Sawyer leans over and pulls down on the rope. "I'm first."

"You can't be serious," Kate reacts, instinctively digging her fingernails into his arm.

"Calm down Freckles; this could be my ticket off this rock." Sawyer shakes her grip and hangs one leg over the shaft. "Last time I watched somebody climb down a Well with a light at the bottom, he got to go home."

"Locke," answers Jin, nodding to Jack.

"When it's time to leave, we will all leave together," explains Christian. "For now, we have work to do." He reaches for Sawyer's arm and helps him safely back to solid ground. "When John Locke returns with the stone plug, we will lower it into position over the light."

Jack glances down the shaft, the twinkling light mesmerizing him. "So that's it? We place the stone over the light and that will save the Island?"

"No." MIB shakes his head and ties another loophole in the rope. "The Heart of the Island is a place where energy is transformed into healing. The three ingredients needed are the light, the stone, and water. We have the light. And soon, John Locke will have the stone. The only other thing we need is _water_."

* * *

><p><strong>sorry short! more to come! -bobt<strong>


	64. Saving the Island p4

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**********-Part 4-  
>Saving the Island<strong>********

_Dharma Barracks Surveillance room  
>48 hours before the Incident<em>

The security worker reaches for another tasty brownie and props his feet up on the security console. "These brownies rock, man," he says with a slur, the substance in the brownies making him extra hungry. His glazed eyes are bloodshot and his neatly trimmed sideburns extend down to his jaw line. "Come on man; you should try one."

His coworker Phil takes his security role much more seriously. "Stop screwing around," he says, his buggy eyes glued to the monitors looking for anything suspicious. The eight black and white screens display nothing but dull stillness of pylons securing the Barracks perimeter. "I think we've got company," he says, zooming the video closer to the bottom of a pylon.

The brownie muncher leans closer until his nose touches the screen. "I see nothing but grass, man."

"That's probably because you've been smoking too much of it," Phil retorts, annoyed by his slacker coworker.

"Very true," brownie man replies, chewing rapidly. "What do you see?"

Phil points to a blinking yellow light on the console. "I see a blinking light, which means the sector 12 pylon detected an intruder."

Brownie man pauses and gulps his chew. "Do we call _him_?"

"Him? No. Absolutely not." Phil grabs his clipboard hanging on the wall, keeping an eye on the monitor. "Lafluer's on break and doesn't want to be bothered. Besides, I think I can handle this."

"What are you going to do man?"

"Let's see; Sector 12," Phil mumbles, tracing his fingers down the clipboard. "There's a van on patrol in that area right now. I'll have them check it out."

* * *

><p>Miles pulls the Volkswagen van into a shady spot close to the perimeter and cuts the engine. He opens his brown bag lunch and pulls out a sandwich to eat.<p>

Jin sits in the passenger seat unable to relax, feeling apprehensive for being so close to a boundary where a smoke monster can be lurking. He picks up his binoculars and stares past the perimeter looking for movement.

Miles rolls his eyes and swallows a bite of his sandwich. "Would you stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"Pretending like you're doing your job or something," Miles jokes.

"Others. We have to look," answers Jin, keeping his binoculars steady.

Miles reclines his seat and takes a sip of Dharma beer. "They're called Hostiles in this decade dimwit, and they're not the least bit interested coming into our camp. Besides, that's what the fence is for."

"Fence not keep out Others," Jin argues.

"Maybe not Richard, but it definitely keeps everyone else from coming near."

Suddenly, Phil's voice comes through the radio. "Van Patrol, do you copy? Over."

Miles swallows his food with a swig of beer then grabs the receiver. "Ya, this is Miles. Already checkin' in on us?"

"The fence picked up a breach; should be close to you guys. Sector 12, Post 15. We don't see anything on camera so it might be just be a false alarm. Could you check on it?"

"Post 15. Roger that. We'll let you know if we find anything," Miles replies.

Jin picks up his rifle and cocks back the chamber to check for bullets. Miles stays calm and urges Jin to do the same. "Take it easy man. This could be a false alarm."

They step out of the van and approach the perimeter. A meandering line of equally spaced concrete pillars stretches across the grassy terrain, each equipped with high frequency sonar able to stun an unsuspecting trespasser. "Post 15, this is the one," Miles points out the pylon, scouring the ground around it for clues. He spots an area of disturbed ground; the grass is tall, but smothered flat; as if someone were hiding in it.

"Jin, over here, I think I found something," says Miles, kneeling down in the grass. He finds an ancient brick and a coil of rope. He picks up the brick; suddenly, his eyelids flutter uncontrollably and his breathing becomes rapid; a bright vision flashes before his eyes of a bald man falling into a Well. "Whoa," he says, backing away and dropping the brick like it's too hot to hold.

"What happened?" asks Jin, curious to what Miles is sensing.

"How long has it been since we saw John Locke fall down the Well and the sky stopped flashing?" asks Miles, recovering from his vision by blinking.

"3 years," answers Jin.

"Well, I've got bad news; Locke never even made it off the Island. His body is buried right underneath our feet."

* * *

><p><em>Inside the Protective Dome<em>

Christian and MIB lead everyone away from the Well while following the ash line into the woods. The sound of rushing water grows louder as they approach a winding stream; the ash line stops at the banks of the stream, but the magical dome still projects upward from the water.

Jack runs his fingers through the cool waters then touches the dome, still as solid as before. "I don't understand. The ash line; it doesn't complete an entire circle?"

"The stream is part of that circle, Jack. The water also helps create the barrier," Christian clarifies.

MIB explains why he led everyone over to the stream. "We must dig a separate channel and direct water toward the Well. This stream will supply the water the Island's Heart needs to operate."

Sayid is curious as to why there isn't a simpler solution to the Island's dilemma than digging a trench and transporting a heavy stone. "If Locke has to enter the Heart of the Island in order to retrieve the stone column, then why can't he simply repair the Island's Heart where it is now?"

"The drilling of the Swan has upset the balance of energy, which naturally releases within the waters at the Heart of the Island. The new point of release will occur at the bottom of the Well," MIB explains.

Sayid nods, comprehending the mechanics. "In other words, we're not the ones who will move the Heart of the Island. It's _already moving_."

* * *

><p><em>Dharma Barracks Cafeteria<br>24 hours before the Incident_

Miles slides his tray on the buffet counter and scoops a spoonful of mash potatoes on his plate. He taps the shoulder of the large guy in front of him to get his attention.

"Psss, hey man," he whispers, swirling mash potatoes around to avoid making eye contact.

"Miles! Hey man, what's up?" Hurley responds, overjoyed to see a familiar face.

"Shhhhh," Miles whispers, still avoiding eye contact and placing one green bean at a time on his plate. "We're not supposed to know each other yet, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Hurley says, quieting down but totally confused. "But I've been back for over a week dude."

"I know, but a week's not enough time to give each other high fives," Miles replies, finally looking up.

"Oh," Hurley says, feeling awkwardly offended. "Sorry I said anything."

Miles continues to talk inconspicuously, picking through pieces of food at the buffet. "There's a van parked behind the cafeteria. Climb into the back seat right after you eat."

"Huh? Why?" Hurley responds, more confused.

"Because there's something I've got to show you."

* * *

><p><em>Inside the Perimeter Dome<em>

Sayid kneels at the stream's edge to quench his thirst. He cups his hands and swallows several gulps.

MIB approaches from behind and lays a curved row of rocks in the stream. The water collects behind them, creating a shallow pool until the water spills over the top. The rocks shuffle from the pressure of the current, almost collapsing until MIB pulls the center rock from the row; creating a jet of free flowing water through the center.

"What are you doing?" asks Sayid.

"I'm illustrating a point," remarks MIB. He picks up a smooth metallic stone, much heavier than the other rocks he used to form the makeshift dam. "The plug needed for the Heart of the Island must be perfect in every way," he says, holding up the rock and admiring the sparkle from its surface. "Its minerals possess the ideal measure of conductivity. Its diameter, weight, and density is required for the pool to operate properly." He places the stone at the center of the dam; like a keystone in an arch, it provides the structural force needed to hold the dam together.

"Interesting," Sayid remarks.

"Centuries ago, I knew men who were like you, Sayid. Intelligent men who were curious about how things worked. Men who were good with numbers and who understood science. These were the men who dug the Wells and figured out a way off this Island."

Sayid is intrigued by his tale, and tries connecting the story with their current situation. "Tell me; are we really rebuilding the Heart or are we building another wheel to move the Island?" Sayid asks.

"We are rebuilding the Heart, Sayid; although both operate on the same principle," MIB answers.

"And what principle are you referring to?" Sayid asks.

"_Channeling the water and the light_."

* * *

><p><em>22 hours before the Incident<br>Barracks Perimeter  
><em>

Miles pulls the Volkswagen van close to the pylons and cuts the engine. Hurley stays put and looks both ways, the stretch of pylons seemingly endless in both directions. "Dude, why did you take me all the way out to the edge of Dharma-land?"

"Come on, I'll show you," answers Miles, hopping out of the van. He leads Hurley into the tall grass at the bottom of pylon 15. "Jin and I were patrolling this area yesterday and found this spot."

Hurley looks down at the blades of fresh grass, totally confused. "Cool man, you found some grass."

"No, you idiot!" Miles kneels and spreads the grass with his hands. "I brought you all the way out here man because you've got abilities like me. Stop playing around and tell me, what do you see?"

"I don't see anything dude."

Miles rummages through the grass; the coil of rope and ancient brick are missing and he no longer senses the presence of John Locke. "I don't believe this man! He was right here yesterday!"

"Who?" asks Hurley, raising eyebrows.

"John Locke."

"Uh, what?"

"Locke; he never even made it off the Island," explains Miles.

"Dude, Locke died in L.A.," answers Hurley.

"Shhhh, do you hear that?" Miles hushes. "I hear whispers."

The leaves rustle in the woods behind them; suddenly, a sweaty bald man emerges carrying a coil of rope over his shoulder. "You're just the man I was hoping to see."

Hurley tightens his eyelids and presses his hands against his ears to escape the delusion. "La-la-la-you're-not- real-you're not real-la-la-la." After several seconds of self induced silence, he opens his eyes again to John Locke standing before him.

"Hello Hugo."

Hurley gives up trying to ignore the circumstances. "Um Miles. I'm not hearing whispers dude, I'm hearing him loud and clear."

Mile's eyes flutter and his breathing becomes rapid again; he steps back to silence his ghost alarm senses. "Yeah, I know he's here too."

Locke grips Hurley shoulder, relieved his hand doesn't pass through him and proving to Hurley he's much more than a delusion. "Hugo, you're just the man I'm looking for to help me along my journey. I need your assistance, because you're the only one that can see me. I'm useless by myself."

"Yeah. I usually feel useless too when I tell someone I talk to dead people," Hurley responds with sarcasm.

"What if, Hugo," Locke points his finger upward, shaking it for emphasis. "What if the people that you see dead, are simply from another time? I can assure you I'm not dead. I'm from 2007, but somehow you are able to see me," Locke explains.

Hurley squints again, considering Locke's suggestion. "Hmm. But it's 1977 now dude. My brain always hurts when I think of time travel stuff. Give me some time to think about that one."

"Well no matter what you believe, I'm here now talking to you, and I need you to be the mediator between me and the people I need to speak with," Locke urges.

"OK," Hurley agrees. "Who?"

Locke grins, pleased his plan is coming together. "I need you to bring me to _Jack_."


	65. Saving the Island p5

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**********-Part 5-  
>Saving the Island<strong>********

The six remaining survivors (Jack, Kate, Sayid, Jin, Hurley, Sawyer) work together building the trench needed for redirecting water from the stream into the Well. Despite their exertion, their strength never diminishes. In this mystical place, there's no need for sleep or food; the only necessities are fresh air and water, both amply provided within the magical dome. The environment is like a terrarium with an unlimited power source; the blue afternoon light is constant, and the mild weather consistent. What could be hours or days goes by since Locke left; no one really knows the time for sure, in a place where time stands still and cannot be measured.

Jack, Jin, and Hurley disassemble the bricks around the ancient Well and dig the trench toward the stream. Sayid and the Man in Black take on the role as engineers; marking the best route through the jungle and digging benchmarks for trench depth.

Sawyer and Kate volunteer to dig beginning from the stream. Sawyer leans against a tree to take a break; he takes a swig from his water bottle, staring down at Kate bending over in front of him while digging. She senses eyes looking from behind and glances back, catching Sawyer off guard in a daydream of temptation.

She chuckles and rolls her eyes, holding back her own confession of enjoying the attention. "Are you checking the trench depth or are you just checking me out?"

"Guilty as charged," he replies unashamedly, raising his water bottle as if he were proposing a toast. "Last time we were digging dirt together, Ben had us both in handcuffs," he reminisces the time they were enslaved by the Others.

"Yeah," Kate chuckles, remembering old times including their steamy romance inside the bear cage. "Good times on Hydra Island."

"And as I recall, Freckles, Ben had you looking real pretty in that Sunday dress, trying to mess with my head," he reminisces further, hoping Kate keeps the flirtation going.

Her expression turns serious as she notices the sparkling ring on Sawyer's pinky finger. "Yeah, and I also recall Juliet holding a gun to my head."

Her words quickly extinguish the sparks between them, a pause of silence follows. Sawyer bows his head and covers the ring with his other hand, then tucks it away in his front pocket. He exhales slowly, again feeling the pain of Juliet being gone. "Break time's over," he grunts, picking his shovel back up.

"Do you really think you'll see her again?" Kate asks.

Sawyer heaves a shovel full of dirt out of the trench then pauses to answer. "Locke came back. And so did Sayid. Ever since I crossed over the ash line, I've stopped asking questions."

"Questions?" she pushes further.

He leans on the shovel handle and gazes into Kate's eyes. "What I'm trying to tell you is; I'm _starting to believe_, Kate."

* * *

><p><em>12 hours before the Incident<br>The Barracks_

Jack walks along the winding sidewalk between the barracks houses; his head drooping in discouragement, his hands inside the pockets of his Roger workman jumpsuit. He's heading towards his next joyful janitorial assignment; cleaning toilets in the cafeteria bathroom. It's only been a week since he came back to the Island, and he's already frustrated adapting to his undercover role. For Jack, not being in charge feels like a demotion; and furthermore, being a janitor is downright demeaning. His heroic expectations of coming back to the Island haven't amounted to anything yet; it's like the Island wants to punish him no matter what decade it is.

A Dharma security van approaches him alongside at idle speed with the driver side window rolled down.

"Hey Dude," greets a familiar voice.

Jack looks over his shoulder, shocked to see Hurley in the driver's seat. "Hurley, what are you doing?"

"It's cool man. Miles gave me security clearance to drive."

Jack stops to chat and leans inside to see who else is inside the van; he sees a pile of old bricks and a coil of rope sitting on the back seat.

"I'm delivering bricks to one of the construction sites. Get in dude, I'll need some help unloading them."

Jack quickly jumps into the passenger seat and slumps down so nobody sees him leaving work. Hurley shifts the van into gear and follows a dirt path into the woods.

"So where are we going?" Jack asks, sitting back up straight.

Hurley glances in the rear view mirror at John Locke sitting on top of the bricks. Locke shakes his head, asking Hurley to delay explaining the situation.

"Umm, well, this road should take us to the waterfall. You know, the one Kate and I appeared after the Ajira flight and, like, almost drowned."

Jack scratches his head and looks back at the bricks. "Why are we going back there?"

Hurley shrugs his shoulders, glancing in the rear view mirror. "Because it's really close to where you appeared; that place in the forest with the bamboo. That's where I want to go."

"Why?" asks Jack, growing suspicious.

Hurley struggles to answer; he glances in the rear view mirror, hoping Locke can help him through the conversation. Jack turns around, curious about why he keeps looking back. "Why do you keep looking in the rear view mirror?"

Locke leans forward to give Hurley some advice. "Hugo, ask him why he came back to Island."

"Tell me the truth Jack; why did you come back to the Island?" Hurley asks rather bluntly, hoping to redirect the conversation.

Jack pauses in silence, choked up by Hurley's candid question; his disappointment is difficult to hide. "I came back here, because I'm broken, and I was hoping the Island could fix me."

"That's exactly why we need to go there," Hurley replies.

Jack shakes his head. "I don't understand."

Hurley nods, looking in the rear view mirror again. "What if I told you, the Island is also broken, and needs to be fixed?"

"How can the Island be broken?" Jack asks, full of skepticism.

"I don't know dude, but it's all because of those maniac Dharma scientists, the ones building the hatches; they broke it. And because it's too late to stop them, we have to fix what they broke."

Jack considers believing his answer, but his logic gets in the way. "What does this have to do with the bamboo patch?"

Hurley suddenly slams on the brakes, getting Jack's full attention. The sputtering Volkswagen engine echoes through the woods like an idling lawnmower while Jack awaits an answer.

"Because if we don't fix what's going to happen; pretty soon from now, you'll be at that same spot in the bamboo again; except, you won't be getting up. You'll be dead, man."

"Dead?"

Hurley nods once. "Dead."

"And what will happen to you?" Jack asks, sensing his friend is very serious.

"I'll be the leader of the Island like that Jacob dude, which I'm trying to avoid doing; so I've decided to step it up and be a leader right now. So, are you with me man?"

Jack takes a deep breath, then a step of faith. "I'm with you Hurley."

Hurley flips down the visor and finds his sunglasses. He places them on and shifts into first gear. "Let's roll!"


	66. Saving the Island p6

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**********-Part 6-  
>Saving the Island<strong>********

Hurley fits on his sunglasses and shifts into first gear. "Let's roll!" He punches the gas and pops the clutch, losing traction for a moment in the moist soil. Low hanging branches smack the windshield as the Volkswagen gains momentum. Jack hugs the armrest while the van jostles across the terrain. Hurley shifts into second gear and remains calm despite the bouncy ride. "There's a stream just over the ridge past the bamboo," he explains, shifting again. "Following that stream will lead us to what is called the Heart of the Island. The Heart is moving, and there's a column of rock that must move with it."

"Ok," Jack replies confused but willing to help. "And we're supposed to move the column of rock?"

"No dude, not us; John Locke. He's riding in the van with us," Hurley answers.

Jack nervously chuckles, questioning Hurley's state of mind. "John Locke is actually in the van with us, right now?" He clears his smirk and leans toward Hurley, waiting for him to glance in his direction. "Tell me you're joking."

Hurley keeps a straight face with both hands on the wheel. "I knew you wouldn't believe me dude. I'm telling you man, I see dead people. He's kinda like a ghost, but not really, because he's no longer dead anymore. He's alive and from the future. He's like a ghost because he passes through things but not through really old stuff for some reason. That's why he's sitting on those really old bricks in the back seat, otherwise he'd fall through the van."

Jack looks behind him at the bricks in the back seat. "This is insane Hurley."

"Trust me, man," Hurley responds, anticipating Jack's typical struggle with belief.

They arrive at the rushing waterfall and exit the van. Hurley stares down at the shimmering pool of water, remembering his escape from nearly drowning only a week ago. One moment, they're together on board Ajira 316 flying thirty thousand feet in the air; but suddenly after an intense blinding light, they're magically back on the Island in 1977. For Hurley and Kate, they were thrust into the turbulent waters below; for Jack, a patch of bamboo somewhere nearby.

Jack stands on a high rock adjacent to the waterfall where he remembers spotting Hurley using the guitar case as a floatation device. He gathers his sense of direction by scanning the woods behind him; he spots the tops of swaying bamboo trees in the distance. "The bamboo," Jack says, pointing into the jungle void. Jack crosses the stream and enters the woods, Hurley and invisible Locke follow closely behind. The thick woods takes time to penetrate; Locke easily passes through the vegetation like smoke through a screen window.

They reach a dizzying patch of bamboo then climb over a ridge, as Locke instructed. They find a trickling stream entering a cavernous hole inside a cliff face; a dim yellow light barely illuminates the inside.

Hurley steps into the shallow current and has a quiet conversation with Locke. He turns to Jack with a solemn look. "Locke said the light is already going out."

Jack steps toward the cave with a look of determination. "Tell him we'll do whatever it takes to save the Island."

Hurley nods. "He hears you, dude."

* * *

><p><em>Inside the Protective Dome<em>

Sayid and MIB check the depth along the trench. The channeled path has been cleared all the way to the Well; a small trickle of water pours down the shaft, turning into mist before ever reaching the bottom. They work together to dig a more consistent slope and remove rocks obstructing flow.

MIB quenches his thirst from the stream; a human necessity he enjoys doing after becoming alive in human form again. He passes the cup to Sayid, his first human friend after so many centuries existing in smoke form. "When I was a youth, I dreamed of leaving this Island and returning to the place my ancestors came; a place where the land stretches in every direction, not bounded by shore; a place I could call home. If we are ever able to leave this Island, would you show me such a place, Sayid?"

Sayid sips the refreshing water and nods. "Yes, of course my nameless friend. Someday I will show you the country I came from, the place I call home."

The curtain inside the cabin window suddenly moves, a hand lifts it sideways with an opening just large enough to peak. The movement catches Sayid's eye; he stares back at the window until the curtain closes again. "And what about him? The man in the cabin who appears as Jack's father?"

"He's not like you or me, Sayid. He's like my brother, Jacob. This Island is his home and he will never leave."

Suddenly, the dome dims slightly and begins flashing on and off like a malfunctioning strobe light. Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Jin, and Hurley race out of the woods and approach Sayid and MIB for answers. MIB steps out of the trench, looking upward at the flashing sky. "Something has changed. The ash is losing its power."

Christian exits the cabin with a large sack of ash over his shoulder; Vincent follows at his master's side, wildly barking at the chaos. "A gap in the ash has formed somewhere, and unless we fill it in soon, the dome will disappear and we will no longer have protection. Everyone, spread out along the perimeter and find the gap!"

* * *

><p><em>Back on the Island<em>

"He hears you, dude."

Locke suddenly appears visible while walking in the stream; his body flickers off and on like an old fluorescent bulb about to go out. He squeezes his arms and chest, assuring himself he's still solid.

Hurley notices something different about him. "Dude, you're flashing like a Christmas light."

Jack is able to see the blinking Locke, contemplating whether this is all one crazy dream. "Locke?" he asks, his throat tightened in shock.

"Something is happening at the cabin," Locke concludes, remaining calm. "I need to get to the light before it's too late."

They enter the cavernous entrance to the Heart of the Island; the sound of rushing water grows louder as they approach the ledge of the waterfall. Blinking John Locke looks over the edge; the light at the bottom illuminates the jagged rocks below. Locke secures the rope around a rock formation and prepares for his descent.

Jack stands by, willing to assist. "What can I do to help?"

Locke forms a loop in the rope and tightens it around his waist. "Both of you need to get to the Swan as soon as you can. Unless his mother shot him first, Daniel Faraday might show up any second with a nuclear bomb. Do everything you can to stop him from detonating it."

Hurley stands speechless, envisioning a nuclear bomb going off. "OK dude, ummmm, anything else?"

Locke's flickering appearance dims down several notches; his visibility is slowly disappearing again from Jack's view. He places a hand on Jack's shoulder and communicates his final message. "The man from the cabin who looks like your father; he sent me here. He's the only one who knows how to save the Island and save all of us. If he ever comes to you, _do exactly as he says_."

Jack shakes his head, demanding clarification. "The man who looks like my father?"

Locke nods, his appearance slowly becoming as transparent as glass. "He resembles him because Christian is his _grandfather_."

Jack shakes his head again, not fully piecing together the details. "I don't understand."

Locke's body fades out of sight as he speaks one final detail. "He's your _nephew_, Jack."

* * *

><p>The man resembling Christian fills in the gap with ash from the sack and spreads it evenly with his hands. The flickering dome regenerates to full power; the lighting once again consistently bright. Everyone looks up, relieved to see the dome restored. Vincent wags his tail and greets everyone standing around with a lick to the hand.<p>

Kate kneels next to the ground where the gap occurred and observes a trail of disturbed vegetation. "Do you know how this happened?" she asks the man resembling Christian.

He also notices footprints in the moist ground. "Someone else got in."

Kate exchanges a frightened glance with Jack. Suddenly, the bushes rustle in the woods close by; the group huddles together in safety. Vincent growls and his ears stand straight up. A figure moving in the shadows, crawling belly first, stands slowly upright to reveal her presence.

Kate squints, barely recognizing her former friend. "Claire?"

Like an Island commando, she's perfectly camouflaged with layers of moss and vegetation caked on her upper body. Her hair is matted flat, her face black with mud. She cocks the chamber of her rifle and aims at the mysterious man resembling her father; he raises his hands in surrender.

"Where is my baby?" she demands.

* * *

><p><strong>OK readers. Huge reveal. I'll clarify in case there's any confusion: Island Christian is Christian's grandson, Jack's nephew, Claire's son.. he IS Aaron! He has been Aaron this entire time. Maybe some of you figured this out already? (I hope not, hoping it was a shocker) Will his fate be similar to Daniel Faraday's by dying at the hands of his mother? Or will he finally tell Claire and everyone else who he is? More soon! -bobt<strong>


	67. Saving the Island p7

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**********-Part 7-  
>Saving the Island<strong>********

"Where is my baby?"

Claire tightens her finger to the trigger; she tilts her head sideways and centers one eye along the barrel. Her stance is as steady as a marksman. "Answer me!" she demands.

They lift their hands one at a time, completely baffled they're being held at gunpoint by someone they once viewed completely innocent. Jack rubs shoulders with Kate then moves in front of her, offering his protection.

The man resembling Christian moves away from the group, the aim of the rifle following his every step. Compassion wells within his heart; tears pool along his bottom eyelids as he fights back his emotions. His Mother's arrival is shocking; her appearance transformed after years of Island survival, a price he knew was necessary for everyone to come back alive and together. "I knew you would find your way," he says softly, lowering his hands. He considers for a moment spilling the secret of his identity, but wisely restrains himself, knowing most likely nobody would believe and that it would only escalate the situation.

"Where is he!" she demands, aiming squarely at his head.

Kate steps out from behind Jack, waving her hands to get her attention. "Claire, listen to me sweetie. Your baby is safe, back at home with your Mother. We took him with us on the helicopter."

"But he came back," Christian clarifies, carefully referring to himself only in the third person. He raises his hands again, attempting to regain her trust. "Like I've told you before, he's safe and on the Island."

She lowers her aim and picks up her head, letting down her guard slightly. "But if he left, how did he come back?"

"Because _you _brought him back," he answers, softening his tone. He cautiously inches closer while eyeing the gun. "I realize you don't remember anything yet, but believe me, you will."

"Stay back!" She lowers the rifle and pulls the trigger as a warning shot, inadvertently shooting Vincent in the leg.

*KAPOW*

"ARRRF!" Vincent yelps in pain.

"Vincent!" Sawyer yells, quickly tending to the beloved canine. He combs through Vincent's ruffled fur and finds a flattened bullet with no blood on it, miraculously stopped from penetrating the skin. He holds the bullet up to show everyone. "You got body armor underneath that fur of yours, wonder-mutt?"

"Ruff!" barks Vincent, wagging his tail and forgiving Claire immediately.

Christian closes in slowly with his hands still raised until the muzzle presses against his chest. "Please, put the gun away," he urges, gently gripping the barrel. She snaps the trigger, but the rifle fails to fire. "I've made it so you can't harm me or Vincent, but you are able to harm your friends," he explains, tightening his grip and tugging harder. She stubbornly resists; they wrestle for control of the gun, inadvertently firing another shot. After a brief struggle, Christian loosens it from her grasp and tosses it into the woods.

"Give me back my baby!" she cries out, slapping him repeatedly. He turns his cheek after each strike, and then pulls her tightly into his chest. She resists at first, the feeling of human touch so foreign to her after years of isolation. His affection finally breaks through her emotional wall of distrust; she stops resisting and unconsciously hugs him back even tighter. "I want my baby!" she sobs in uncontrollable bursts, nestling her face into his soft shoulder.

"Shhhhh. It's OK," he consoles her, stroking her hair between his fingers. "You're safe now."

She catches her breath after exhausting her cries. She peaks over his shoulder and sees the cabin where she last saw her child, hoping he may be waiting for her inside. "Is he close?" she asks.

"Closer than you know," he replies.

They turn around and discover that the misfire during their struggle shot Jacob's brother in the chest. Sayid kneels to comfort his dying friend while Jack holds pressure to the wound.

Sayid stares coldly at Claire with tears glazing his eyes. "What did you do?"

* * *

><p><em>1977, minutes before the Incident<br>Inside the Heart of the Island_

John Locke uses the ancient rope to carefully descend the waterfall. The spray drenches his clothes and moistens his grip. He steadily repels downward, swinging out by pushing off the cliff face behind the falling water. He reaches the bottom, exhausted but thankful to be back on solid ground.

He follows the stream in search for the stone column; the energy reaction inside the ancient pool has slowed substantially, its light as dim as a depleted glow stick. He stumbles into the pool and finds the stone jutting vertically from its center. The mystical light extinguishes fully; the Island's energy source has diverted toward the Well at the Swan site, just as Jacob's brother explained would happen once the Incident occurred. He crawls on his knees back toward the waterfall after becoming disoriented in the darkness. The task of hauling the stone column all the way back up seems daunting. He freezes in stance after suddenly hearing footsteps echo off the cave walls in front of him. "Hello?" he calls out.

A man appearing as Christian Shepherd brightens a lantern and holds it close to his face; a white Labrador is seated at his side.

"Hello, Christian," Locke says, relieved help has arrived.

"Hello, John."

Locke crosses his arms while looking the man over suspiciously. "Or should I call you by your real name, _Aaron_. You are Claire's son, correct?"

He looks away, trying to conceal the smirk on his face. "How did you know?"

Locke kneels to pet Vincent and explains how he came to his conclusion. "You told Claire I would lead her back to her baby. So when all of us made it to the cabin, and there wasn't a crying baby with you, I logically concluded you either lied to her, or you lied about your name being Christian."

"Well done John," Aaron congratulates him.

Locke looks to the rope dangling at the bottom of the waterfall. "Don't congratulate me yet. I still have to carry a thousand pound rock up a waterfall and back to the Swan. Hurley and Jack already left to stop Faraday from detonating a nuke, so I suppose I no longer have a ride back. If you ask me, there's not enough time left to save the Island."

"Follow me." Aaron holds up the lantern and walks toward the ancient pool. "There isn't enough time if you leave the same way you came in. Fortunately,_ there's another way_."

* * *

><p><em>Inside the Protective Dome<em>

MIB's breathing becomes shallow as his second chance at life slowly slips away. Jack removes his shirt and uses it to slow the bleeding of the bullet wound. Sayid kneels at his friend's side, hoping he lasts at least until the Island's Heart is moved.

The ground suddenly rumbles and the light within the Well brightens like a spot light shooting into the sky; the security of the protective dome unable to fully shield them from what's happening beneath the ground. Christian pulls Jack aside and explains the status of Locke's mission to the Island's Heart. "Right now, it's more important that you find Locke and help him bring back the stone. After the Island is saved, Jacob's brother will be given another chance to live."

Jack looks down at his blood stained hands and shrugs his shoulders. "Help Locke? But I thought he was the only one allowed to cross over."

Christian points to the ancient Well, indicating another path he wants Jack to take. "Fortunately, _there's another way_."

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings readers! I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing. Let me clarify several things:<strong>

**Christian is Aaron, although at this point in the story I'd rather refer to him as "the man resembling Christian" or "Christian." There will be a point in the story when I only refer to him as Aaron. I think it's important to still refer to him as Christian to signify they still don't understand he's Aaron.**

**When Christian/Aaron appeared inside the Heart of The Island, he's kind of operating out of the realm of time. Kind of like when he appeared at the bottom of the Well in the actual story of Lost..**

**So in case you don't understand, the Well within the dome is the same shaft at the Swan site, but existing in a different time/dimension per se. When the Incident occurred, the energy is released at the Well. The mission of John Locke is to bring the stone column to the Well and plug the energy, and by directing fresh water to the plug, it effectively creates a new Heart of the Island!**

**Hope you enjoyed the Aaron/Claire reunion, I almost shed a tear writing it! More soon! -bobt**


	68. Saving the Island p8

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**********-Part 8-  
>Saving the Island<strong>********

Sayid kneels close to MIB's side as Jack examines the bullet wound to his abdomen. His breathing diminishes to a faint wheeze, his second life slowly but surely slipping away. Sayid bows his head and grieves quietly; their bond of friendship together has lately become as strong as his bond with fellow Oceanic survivors. He turns his head and stares coldly at Claire, his expression mixed with sadness and anger. "What did you do?" he asks, tears glazing his eyes. He keeps pressure on the wound as Jack and the others leave to speak with Christian at the Well. The Man in Black gasps for enough air to whisper his final words; Sayid leans in closely to listen as his breathing ceases and his body relaxes.

Claire stands still in the background, staring down at the mysterious man dressed in ancient garb. The burden of regret weighs heavy on her soul, realizing her actions resulted in this stranger's death. "What was his name?" she asks softly, hesitating to look Sayid in the eyes.

Sayid uses his index finger to shut his eyelids. "He doesn't have a name."

Claire shakes her head, perplexed. "Everyone has a name," she says, finally making eye contact.

"He was Jacob's twin brother. Unfortunately, their mother was murdered right after she gave birth, before she could even choose a name for him," Sayid explains.

Claire crosses her arms during an uncomfortable silence. "But she named Jacob, didn't she?"

"She didn't realize she was having twins," answers Sayid.

"Oh," Claire nods while biting her lip, still confused. "I see."

Sayid covers the body with large leaves he gathers from the forest. After a moment of silence, they walk over to rejoin everyone at the Well. The light inside the shaft has transformed from a beautiful glow to a fiery red hue, similar to lava. The water from the trench pours into the shaft like a waterfall pouring off a high cliff, quickly dissipating into a mist and cooling the heated rock below. The rope from the Well is secured at the top and extends to the very bottom.

Hurley and Jin are seated next to the hole; Kate and Sawyer safely stand at a distance. "Where's Jack?" asks Sayid, after noticing Kate's eyes are swelled with tears.

"Apparently he thought it was good idea to slide down a rope into fiery Hell to go find Locke," Sawyer answers, resorting to sarcasm to hide his worries.

Sayid eyes the rope all the way down into the red abyss then glances back to Sawyer. "And what could possibly make him think that was a good idea?"

"Who do you think?" Sawyer responds angrily, pointing to the cabin. "Man looks just like his daddy, and he'll do whatever he tells him to do."

Claire looks into the mesmerizing light below. "The Man from the cabin told Jack that Locke's down there?"

"Sounds crazy, right?" Sawyer responds.

"Yeah, crazy," Claire whispers, deep in thought. She suddenly leaps over the side and slides down the rope like a firefighter sliding down a brass pole.

Kate frantically reaches out to stop her descent, but it's too late. "Claire! What are you doing!" her voice echoes down the shaft.

Claire looks back up before going any deeper. "I have to go Kate! The only way to find my baby is to follow John Locke!"

* * *

><p><em>Inside the Heart of the Island<br>Moments after the Incident_

Aaron holds up the lantern and points toward the ancient pool. "There isn't enough time if you leave the same way you came in. Fortunately,_ there's another way_."

The lantern illuminates an ancient path to the pool. Locke follows closely from behind, staying clear of jagged rock formations and the skeletons of not-so-fortunate adventurers. He sees again the ancient column of rock adorned with hieroglyphic-like carvings. The stream flows into the pool through a man-made flume; water from the pool overflows into three adjacent tunnels.

"The tunnel on the left leads back to the Well at the cabin. Push the stone column in front of you until you reach the perimeter. Jack and Claire will bring it the rest of the way."

"The rest of the way?" Locke asks, scratching his head. "You mean, I can't go back?"

Aaron shakes his head, looking somber as he apologizes. "I'm sorry, John. The Island requires a sacrifice from all of us; yours being the greatest."

Locke nods, thankful for at least finding and fulfilling his purposes on the Island. "I understand."

The light from the lantern dims; Aaron's apportioned time with Locke will soon expire. "Vincent and I will be leaving any moment now." The lantern flame flickers one last time then extinguishes. "Good luck, John," he says, fading into the darkness.

Locke sees an orange glowing hue deep inside the tunnel, similar to volcanic lava. He heaves the heavy stone column out of its hole and slides it in front of him. "Almost to the end," he sighs.

* * *

><p><em>Deep inside the Well<em>

Jack travels down the rope by adjusting his hold between his hands and feet. The heat is intense as he approaches the bottom. He swings his legs and let's go of the rope, dropping close to the rocky side, safely away from the dangerous center producing the heat and light.

Water droplets shower from above, keeping the temperature of the atmosphere survivable. The water collects on the bedrock and drains directly into the opening to the energy pocket; it quickly turns to steam and creates a thick fog, making visibility difficult.

Suddenly, a short muscular woman drops in from above; the fog swirls as her boots impact the ground. "Claire?" Jack calls out, blinking to clear the mist from his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Same reason you're here. I'm here to find John," she answers, full of confidence.

Jack notices another source of water flowing in from a large opening on the side of the shaft. They enter together; the visibility becomes clearer as they distance themselves from the fog. The orange hue behind them produces enough light to see ahead. The cylindrical tunnel is reinforced with ancient bricks; hieroglyphics are carved all along its stretch. "If we follow this passage, I think we'll find Locke," Jack states excitedly, increasing his pace to a jog.

The brother and sister duo venture into the darkness, glancing back every few seconds to gauge the distance they've traveled. They come upon a stone column lying on its side, covered with hieroglyphics similar to those inside the tunnel. "This is it; this has got to be plug for the hole," Jack surmises, still panting from his jog.

"But where's John?" asks Claire, looking into the darkness further down the tunnel. She steps forward, her footsteps echoing back as if the passage ends. She inches closer; her nose touches a transparent barrier preventing her from going any further. She knocks on the barrier as if it were a door; the touch is as smooth as glass but as solid as steel.

Jack leans on it with his hands, inspecting where it protrudes from the sides of the tunnel. "It's the protective dome; somehow it reaches underground," he explains. "Locke pushed the column through, but couldn't pass through himself."

Claire presses on the barrier then rams it with her shoulder. "John!" she screams desperately, beating with her fists. "You're supposed to lead me to my baby!" she cries out.

Jack shakes her by the shoulders and leans forward until he's eye level with her. "Claire! Listen to me! Right now, we've got to place the stone in the hole, or else we're all going to die!"

"I want my baby," she whimpers, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jack pulls her close and softly grips her shoulders. "Kate and I took care of Aaron for three years. I treated him as if he were my own son. I promise you, if he's on this Island, we will find him."

Claire wipes away her tears; Jack's promise is reassuring.

"The main reason Kate and I came back to the Island was to find you. We either live together, or we die alone. I'm not leaving anybody behind anymore. Not you. Not Aaron." Jack looks past the transparent barrier into the darkness. "And not John Locke."

* * *

><p><em>Ground Level, at the Well<em>

Hours pass since Jack and Claire descended out of sight. Sayid and Hurley stand close to the edge of the shaft, searching for any signs of movement at the bottom of the Well.

"It always ends the same," Sayid mutters, his face void of expression.

"Uh, what?" Hurley asks, caught off guard.

"Jacob's brother; his last words to me before he died; _it always ends the same_," Sayid clarifies.

Suddenly, the light in the Well turns off completely and it's pitch dark within the dome. The group huddles together, frightened and confused. Hurley looks up, hoping to find a star in the sky to orient him. "Dude, this can't be good."

Christian and Vincent inexplicably materialize several feet away; he brightens his lantern to signal to everyone he has returned.

"How the hell do you get around, Daddi-O?" Sawyer says, startled by his reappearance.

"Dude, you're creepy, just like the cabin you live in," Hurley says.

Christian brings the lantern close to his face as he speaks to the group. "The end is very near everyone. I have one more thing I must attend to inside the cabin. If the light in the Well comes back on, and I haven't returned, I'll see you on the other side."

Hurley jokes in the midst of what feels like Island doomsday. "Let me get this straight; Jack's still not back, the light's off, and cabin man says the end is near. Like I said, this can't be good."

Christian walks on to the cabin porch and reaches for the door knob. "The end of every journey is the beginning of another, Hugo."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued! -bobt<strong>


	69. Saving the Island p9

x  
>x<p>

**********-Part 9-  
>Saving the Island<strong>********

Jack and Claire prop the heavy stone upon their shoulders and carry it down the passage. The temperature rises as they come near to the opening. Jack struggles to breathe as the steam thickens; he kneels and carefully places the stone down to rest. "I wouldn't have been able to carry this by myself," Jack says, sweating and breathing heavily. "Thanks for coming, Claire."

She looks over the ancient symbols carved into the rock. "Do you know how it works?" she asks.

"The man who looks like our father said if we plug the hole with it, the Island will be saved," Jack explains.

"Do you believe him?" she asks, sounding doubtful.

Jack massages the back of his neck and struggles to answer. "I believe John Locke, and he believed him."

They push the stone until it slides across the ground into the steam filled chamber. They stand it upright and quickly place it over the hole, desperate to seal off the source of heat. The tolerance for fitting it inside is tight. They work at shifting it around; suddenly, the column drops into position. Like the flipping of a switch, the light turns to darkness. The rumblings deep within the earth cease. The temperature around them cools as the water condenses and slowly increases depth. The sound of falling water trickling all around them creates a peaceful ambiance.

Jack breathes a sigh of relief and reaches for the rope dangling above his head. "Now all we need to do is climb out of here," he says, chuckling.

A man standing next to them in the darkness suddenly brightens his lantern. "That won't be necessary."

Frightened by his mystical appearance, Claire stumbles backward and leans against the rocky wall. Jack is just as startled, but stands his ground while taking deep controlled breaths. He gathers his courage and stares what feels like his dead father haunting him directly into the eyes. "Now that we've done everything you've told us to do, will you tell us who you are?"

Christian reaches to his chest and removes a leather necklace. He places it around Jack's neck like it's a gold medal award for saving the Island. "I'm giving this back to you, Jack; something you gave to me a long time ago."

Jack looks down and sees a hand carved wooden symbol hanging from the necklace, similar to a cross but with a loop on top. "It's an Ankh," Jack says, confused.

"The anthropologist from Michigan gave it to you," Christian explains.

Jack holds the symbol up to the light, admiring its craft. "Living after death," he mutters to himself, somehow recalling Charlotte's words.

A deep vibration within the bedrock resonates like the humming of electromagnetism. The pool they're standing in begins to glow with a yellow light, originating from the base of the column and refracting throughout the water. Bright popcorn like particles form on top of its surface and float into the air.

"It's beautiful," Claire whispers, mesmerized by the glowing spectacle.

The hum grows louder and transitions to a higher pitch, as if the reaction of energy was speeding up. Vincent whines and stands close to his master. The yellowish light becomes white; the bedrock they're standing on becomes noticeably warmer.

"All of us will be moving on soon," Christian explains. Jack and Claire huddle close together as the light becomes unbearably bright. They shield their eyes and look to the image of their father, who resembles an angel standing in heavenly light.

"Your son says hello, Jack," he says.

Jack squints and shakes his head. "I don't have a son."

"Yes, you do."

The light grows progressively brighter. And brighter. And brighter!

* * *

><p><strong>Merry Christmas everybody! You'll be "opening" my gift to you next chapter! -bobt<strong>


	70. Saving the Island p10

x  
>x<p>

**********-Part 10-  
>Saving the Island<strong>********

"Your son says hello, Jack."

Jack shakes his head, squinting. "I don't have a son."

"Yes, you do."

The aura of pure energy fills the pool and flashes even brighter. Jack's mind races, anticipating a new heavenly dimension in which he's able to see family members who have already passed, and perhaps a child he never knew he had.

Claire, on the other hand, droops her head and sulks. Now that the end is near, her sacrifice of staying behind on the Island seems to have all been in vain. "What about my son?" her voice quivers.

Christian grips her shoulder to comfort her. "He's been with you this entire time."

The energy reaction peaks; the light and sound overwhelms their senses. Jack and Claire crouch and shield their heads; their minds slowly drift into a new awareness.

* * *

><p>*Thump Thump*<p>

The high pitch noise fades to the deep rhythmic rumble of a jet engine. Claire awakens from a long restful sleep; her pupils adjust to the overhead lighting and shaded cabin windows. She's comfortably reclined in her passenger seat with her seatbelt securely fastened. Her mind adjusts to her new surroundings and her heavier curvier body.

*Thump Thump*

Her muscles have lost their tone and her body weight has nearly doubled. Her abdomen protrudes awkwardly over her waist line. She looks down and watches the thumping skin of her pregnant belly.

*Thump Thump*

She massages the movement, delighted to once again feel the presence of her baby. "My baby," she says, choked with tears.

Jack awakens in the seat next to her, the experience at the bottom of the Well still fresh in his mind. He grips the armrests and exhales slowly as his mind takes hold of this new reality. Kate leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "You did it, Jack," she whispers in his ear.

Claire looks over, glowing in pregnancy. "Was it all just a dream?" she asks.

Jack pulls the leather necklace out of his shirt collar, revealing the wooden Ankh the man at the Well bottom gave to him. "Just as real as it is now," he answers, recalling his meeting in the library with Charlotte.

Hurley awakens several rows ahead. He unbuckles his seatbelt and celebrates by skipping down the aisle and giving everyone high fives. "Dudes, it worked! Jack and Claire saved the Island!"

Sayid awakens, unaffected by the transition, nonchalantly offering his hand for Hurley's high five. "I am not surprised; it is only logical that we appeared back where we started."

Jin awakens; the thought of Sun first on his mind. "We are back on plane?"

"Yeah man! And your English is still awesome!" Hurley says, slapping him an awkward high five. He stops celebrating as he recognizes Ben Linus sitting in the next chair down the aisle. "Dude, what are you doing here?"

Ben stares out the window with a tight lipped smirk. "The same reason you are."

Sawyer awakens and clenches his jaw; the toothpick still fresh between his molars. He feels a tiny circular object in his jean pocket. He reaches in and pulls out Juliet's engagement ring. "Well I'll be damned, Locke was right." He looks around, hoping to personally thank him for talking him out of burying it on Hydra Island. Locke's wheelchair sits empty in the aisle, rolling freely around with the sway of the airliner. "Speaking of Locke, where is he?"

"We left him," Jack answers, bowing his head ashamed.

"You what?" Sawyer demands, crushing the toothpick between his teeth.

Jack covers his face with his hands, feeling responsible for circumstances even he couldn't control. "I left him inside the Well. He wasn't able to cross back over with us."

The wing flaps suddenly extend, and the engines throttle down to prepare for descent. A raspy voice comes through the intercom to inform the passengers. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain. Looks like that 305 bearing has finally brought us to our destination. Take a peak out the left window and you'll see the Island you once called home. You crashed the first time you folks got here only because you had the wrong pilot in the cockpit. We'll be in the air until I find the right patch to set this bird down. In the meantime, stay seated and keep those belts buckled!"

The airliner vibrates as the landing gear unfolds beneath their feet. Hurley jumps into the nearest seat and tightens his belt buckle. Claire leans her chair into the upright position; she massages her pregnant belly and takes short controlled breaths through her nose and out her mouth, trying to remain calm. Jack and Kate press their heads firmly against the headrest; they share the armrest between them and hold hands tightly.

Sawyer bravely unbuckles and walks toward the front of the plane.

"Where are you going?" Kate winces nervously.

"Tellin' Lapidus to turn the damn plane around. I'm through with this, Kate. We already saved the Island; there's nothing left for us to do. I'm going back to L.A. and finding the hospital where Juliet works."

"We have to go back, Sawyer," Jack pleads.

"Go back, _again_? What the hell for, Doc?"

Jack points to the empty wheelchair blocking the aisle. "Locke sacrificed everything in order to save us; _we're not going back to L.A without him_."

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings readers! Happy New Year! The Island is saved! Claire has her baby back Yeah! As you might recall, this chapter merges back into Chapters 49 and 57, where the Losties were flying over the Pacific. Locke and Ben were having a conversation about the Island just as a bright light flashed outside.. then in Chapter 57 Locke disappears from the plane and appears in the coffin on the Island, where Aaron and Vincent find him.. There's a lot more action coming in further chapters; a new series coming next: <strong>_The Rescue of John Locke Part I**. **_**Keep in mind, Locke was left at the Well bottom in 1977. It is now 2004, so unless the Island made him like Richard, he will be significantly older :).. It will be an exciting**** series for sure! See you next year! -bobt**


	71. The Rescue of John Locke p1

_x  
>x<em>

_Helen is where she's supposed to be.  
>As sad as it is, her path led here.<br>And your path,  
>Mr. Locke,<br>no matter what you did  
>or what you do,<br>your path leads back to the Island._

-_Matthew Abbadon_

* * *

><p>Locke drops to his knees, exhausted from hauling the heavy stone. He pounds the darkening barrier with his fists; its permeable shell solidifies after pushing the column through, preventing him from joining his friends on the other side. Like looking into a dull mirror, he stares at his dim reflection the barrier provides; pondering what the Island wants him to do next. His faith in the Island created such a magnificent journey for him; a journey full of adventure and self discovery. But sadly, at this very moment, his journey has come to an end. He became the Island Moses that led his friends into the promise land; unfortunately, like Moses, he's unable to enter it himself.<p>

He turns away from his reflection, his heart empty of the passion he once had. For the first time in years he feels alone and without purpose. Not just alone, but lonely, forsaken; like falling from the eighth floor of a building and landing flat on his back, forsaken. He slouches over, losing strength to balance. He's abandoned, like all the other skeletons he passed by in the tunnel, left rotting in the bowels of the Island.

He leans against the barrier and closes his eyes, satisfied if he were to breathe his last breath. After sulking in enough self pity, he opens his eyes and sees a twinkling light. Like the hatch light or the map on the blast door, somehow the Island always provides Locke a sign when he feels like giving up.

He inches down the tunnel toward the light, overcoming muscle aches and fatigue, hoping to find new purpose. As he comes closer, he discovers the source of light is Christian's lantern hanging from a nook in the wall.

"Hello? Anybody here?" he calls out for Christian, his voice echoes without reply into the void.

The light illuminates ancient Egyptian-like symbols carved into the sides of the tunnel. Locke lifts the lantern, intrigued by the pattern telling a story. The first drawing details a man descending a rope down a waterfall, pushing a stone column through a tunnel; and next to it; a man and woman maneuvering the column over a hole in the ground.

"Oh my," Locke reacts wide eyed, his enthusiasm returning.

He illuminates the next set of symbols, showing a man climbing the rope back up the waterfall. He blows the sand off to reveal the final picture of the story; a crowd of people encircling an Egyptian Ankh, kneeling in worship.

"What does this mean?" he wonders.

* * *

><p><em>12 Hours Later<em>

Locke reaches the lip of the waterfall, holding on tightly to the rope and fighting against the rushing current. He musters his strength and pulls himself over the top to the flat slippery ground. He drags himself through the shallow water to safety, making it back to the dry ground where he last stood with Jack and Hurley before saying farewell.

He looks once again at his reflection in the stream; the water has cleansed his face from the mud of his journey. He ponders again what's next without his Oceanic friends; where should he live? The caves or the beach? Or maybe one of the hatches? It's still 1977; is Dharma still around or did everyone leave?

It's night time on the Island, but the cave entrance is brightly lit by the flickering flames of torches. He comes forward cautiously and discovers he's not alone; dozens of people encircle the entrance waiting his arrival. Mostly men, but some women and children; most stand quietly holding their torches; some are on horseback and some armed with rifles and crossbows. All of them are dressed in darker, natural shades of clothing; maroon, olive, and beige with belts and laces made of leather. They're the people of the Temple; those who have protected the Island for centuries; Jacob's followers, Hostiles, Others.

A Spaniard standing in the middle of the group steps forward to welcome him. His demeanor is commanding, yet he's short in stature, with eyes so dark it appears he's wearing eyeliner. "Hi John."

"Richard?" Locke is overjoyed to see the familiar face that never changes no matter which decade it is.

He calmly approaches and places a leather necklace around Locke's neck. "Here; this is for you." Locke looks down and sees a hand carved wooden symbol hanging from the necklace, similar to a cross but with a loop on top. "This is yours too," he says, handing him a staff with bible verses carved into the wooden knot at the top.

"Welcome home, John."


	72. The Rescue of John Locke p2

_x  
>x<em>

_Everybody stumbles  
>And gets lost along the way<br>But God's mercy rains down with amazing grace  
>'Cause all that you need is just to believe<br>He's waiting to set you free_

_-Georges Bizet-_  
>"<em>Intermezzo"<em>

* * *

><p><em>The Island<br>November 18__th__, 1988_

John Locke kicks off his hiking boots and sinks his toes into the soft wet sand. The incoming surf swirls around his ankles as he takes a deep breath of ocean scented air. The waves break against the shoreline rocks and collect in tidal pools close to the base of the four toed statue. It's Locke's favorite spot for morning getaways; the very same place Jacob once enjoyed catching and grilling fresh fish right outside the front door of his secret beachfront lair.

It's been over 10 years since Locke crawled out of the cave of despair as a born again Islander. Jacob's followers quickly accepted him into their flock, and after several months of rising through the ranks, appointed him as their new leader. His first request was to speak with Jacob directly; but Richard explained Jacob has been absent from the Island for years. The last time he checked, Jacob's den inside the Tawaret foot had been completely vacated; the fireplace cold and emptied of all its ashes; Jacob's hand woven tapestry, once hanging from the loom, had gone missing. It's like the boss left on vacation without telling his personal secretary Richard Alpert where he was going.

Life on the Island sure has changed since 1977. Even Jacob's brother the smoke monster disappeared without a trace. Locke interacted with MIB's human form inside the cabin, but perhaps his death this time was truly a death where his soul was free to move on. If this is true, then the centuries old game between brothers has finally come to an end. Two sides; one light, one dark; but without human conflict, the Island has once again become the beacon of light it was created to be.

But perhaps the game isn't over just yet; maybe it's come to a standstill based on the Island's current conditions. Jacob's chess pieces are human beings; he brings them on to the game board by bringing them to the Island. But the pieces which once brought conflict to the game have all been removed: The Dharma people fled by submarine; the candidates flashed forward to 2004 after the Island was saved; and Widmore is unable to find the Island without Faraday's scientific expertise, whom Eloise is raising purely as a musician in this life. The only people left on the Island are the remaining Jacob followers, who without Dharma or the U.S. Army or any other group to fight with, have peacefully lived together inside the Temple.

If the objective is to test man's nature against evil, without Jacob the instigator being present, the Island's game board hasn't changed for over a decade. In this new era of peace, with John Locke reigning as leader over the Others, nobody else has come to the Island.

That is, _until now_.

Locke moves out of the way as a patch of floating debris washes up on shore. There was a viscous storm last night; the churning ocean pushes material floating at sea back towards land. Seaweed mixed with coconuts, an igloo cooler, and a life preserver pass by him in the current. Suddenly, he sees a suitcase sticking out of the weeds; he yanks it from the debris and carries it to dry land, excited to find what's inside. He releases the latch and finds clothing, a music box, and a children's book written in French. It's titled _Le Petit Prince_; the cover illustration shows a little boy sitting on top of an asteroid. He winds the key to the music box several clicks and opens it; a ballerina twirls in front of a mirror to the French melody _Intermezzo _by Georges Bizet.

Locke hears a distant voice calling out to him beyond the breaking waves. He looks up and sees a life raft with six crew members paddling the raft steady in the chop. "Bon Jour!" Locke calls out, making a megaphone out of his hands. He trudges waist deep into the water to assist them coming to shore.

"Bonjour! Avez-vous planter là aussi?" asks one of the Frenchmen as they drift close enough to converse. "Nous avons suivi votre signal de détresse. 4-8-15-16-23-42?"

Locke recognizes the numbers but wishes he could remember some of the French he learned in high school. "I'm sorry, but Bonjour is about the extent of my vocabulary. I hope some of you speak English."

"Oh yes, I do speak English, as well. Em much better understand than I speak," says the Frenchwomen who is far along in pregnancy. "He says that, we follow your transmission of numbers to here. Did your vessel run aground here also?"

"I was a passenger on board an airliner which crashed here," Locke explains, breathing hard as he maneuvers the raft toward shore. "There were many survivors, but I'm the only one left. The radio transmission of the numbers wasn't a distress signal; it was actually used for an entirely different purpose. I didn't realize it was still transmitting."

The French survivors exit the raft, staring up in awe at the massive Tawaret foot. "What eese this place?" asks the Frenchwoman.

"A very special Island; the people who inhabit it have been here for thousands of years. Their leader, a man named Jacob, used to live inside a room within the foot," Locke explains.

Montand, the feistiest crew member who's always on edge, becomes suspicious of Locke's story telling and overly friendly demeanor. He powers on his hand held radio and listens again to the numbers. "Danielle, lui demander où est la tour radio."

"He wants to know where the radio tower is. Do you know?" she translates.

Locke gives her a blank stare and quickly forgets her question. "I'm sorry, but did he just call you Danielle?"

"Yes," she answers, confused.

"Danielle," he replies, eyebrows lifting. "Rousseau?"

"Yes, do I know you?" she responds, confident he's mistaken, but still being polite.

"Not yet." Lock gathers his thoughts while trying to piece the timeline of Island events together. "I realize this is going to sound crazy, but please, you must try to believe me." He bites his bottom lip before proceeding. "My name is John Locke, and I'm from the future," he explains, his eye contact firm and unflinching.

"Future?" she replies, forcefully cracking a smile. The moment between strangers turns awkward. She shares a quick glance with her husband, Robert, hoping he says something soon to fill the silence. "Il vient du futur?" she translates for the rest of the group.

"Alex," Locke says, pointing down at her pregnant belly. "You're having a daughter, and you will name her Alex."

She pulls her hair away from her eyes and nervously tucks it behind her ear, left speechless by his remark. "How do you know such things?"

Montand loses patience and snatches his rifle from the raft. "Leeson to me, crazy old man. You show us dee radio tower, now!" he demands, raising the rifle.

Locke throws his hands up in surrender. "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I'm not showing you anything with a gun pointed at me."

"Radio tower!" Montand demands, poking Locke in the chest.

Locke signals to the woods behind him. "Right now, my friends are hiding in the woods. At the snap of my finger, I could have all of you killed. Now please, put the gun down."

"Montand, Placez-le vers le bas," Danielle pleads.

"Il est allongé, Danielle!" Montand yells, his finger tightening the trigger. "Radio Tower, now!"

Locke snaps his fingers. Suddenly, a cloud of arrows rises from the jungle into the sky. They watch in horror as the arrows follow a high trajectory which will imminently descend upon them. They duck for cover; Robert wraps his body around Danielle to protect his pregnant wife. A booming thud explodes behind them; the life raft deflates as the flurry of arrows penetrates their intended target. The French crew slowly stands back to their feet, brushing off sand and relieved to still be alive. The native hostiles emerge from the woods with their bows reloaded and pulled back. Locke hand signals for his people to lower their weapons. "It was just a misunderstanding. Please, lower your weapons."

The Hostiles encircle them, assuring their leader's safety. "Guns are not allowed on my Island," Locke announces, grabbing the rifle out of Montand's hand and passing it back to his people. "These are my people. You're welcome to live with us. We have food, shelter, fresh water, medicine. We can assist you having your baby, Danielle."

Robert Rousseau holds Danielle's hand tightly; his heart burdened for bringing his pregnant wife on such a strange disastrous expedition. "Thank you for your kindness. Please, will you help us get back home?"

"Yes, but you'll need to be patient," Locke replies. He points down the beach at the other Island several miles off shore. "My people and I are building an airstrip on the smaller Island. In sixteen years, September 22nd 2004 to be exact, an airliner will come; the same airliner which I survived a crash. This time, we're building a place for it to land."

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings readers! If you have any suggestionscorrections for my french, please advise! I used a web translator.. Also, the beginning lyrics are from Georges Bizet's Intermezzo from Carmen the Opera.. That is the song which plays from Rousseau's music box.. I thought it was beautiful, I quoted only one verse, there are many other verses..**


	73. The Rescue of John Locke p3

x  
>x<p>

**********-Part 3-  
>The Rescue of John Locke<br>**********

_Hydra Island  
>October 9th, 1999<em>

*chop!*

Woodchips fly as the axe carves a deep wedge into the trunk.

*chop!* *chop!*

The base of the tree snaps; old man Locke swings the axe one last time, sending the tree crashing to the forest floor. "Timberrrr!" he roars like a lumberjack.

*crash!*

He wipes the sweat from his wrinkled brow, looking upward; his view of the sky no longer obstructed. After twenty something years of hard labor, Locke and his small band of volunteers have transformed a section of once impenetrable jungle into a feasible runway. As it is now, only a small aircraft could land; they have five more years to expand it big enough for an airliner.

In the beginning, the runway project was a massive undertaking of men and machines. Everyone from the temple came to Hydra to help. Tree removal was done with chainsaws. Construction vehicles left behind by the Dharma Initiative made leveling the terrain as easy as shaping butter. But the fuel for machines quickly ran dry; chainsaws were replaced with axes, bulldozers with shovels, dump trucks with wheelbarrows.

And over time, the volunteer manpower also dwindled. Divisions arose among the people. The arrival of the French crew in 1988 added to tensions already growing within temple leadership. Without Jacob's guidance, the community divided into two camps; one on Hydra, and the other remaining at the Temple. An elitism was adopted by the temple elders who believed access to the temple's healing waters was a privilege only for those born on the Island. Even more extreme; some temple dwellers believe the Island's energy is too sacred for any man to possess. But some believed more liberally; that anyone who came to the Island can partake in its healing power, but that it was also their destiny to live there, something Locke once believed wholeheartedly. But in the case of the French crew and others who joined the Hydra camp, life on the Island is joyful yet temporary; ultimately longing to get back home across the sea. The irony is uncanny; Locke once did everything possible to prevent Oceanic survivors from leaving, but because the French want to leave, they share a common interest in building the runway.

The crew of volunteers begins sawing the toppled tree into pieces small enough to move to the burn pile. Suddenly, a young girl with brown hair and vivid blue eyes sprints out of the jungle with a look of terror across her face.

"Uncle Locke! Uncle Locke!" she cries out.

He adores the little one who normally is very brave. "What's wrong, Alex?"

"I found something scary."

Locke holds her hand and walks with her into the jungle; the other workers drop their handsaws and follow closely behind. She leads them to a partially buried coffin surrounded by a circle of lush green vegetation. Locke digs with his fingers and finds ash providing the fertile soil for the circular crop. He kneels and runs his hand over the smooth exterior of the coffin; he remembers the terrifying experience twenty years ago; one moment he's on board Oceanic 815, but after an intense flash, he's instantly zapped to Hydra Island trapped inside a coffin. If Aaron and Vincent weren't there to rescue him from the box of death, he would still be encased in it today.

"Where did it come from?" asks Nadine, one of the French members.

"It's from the plane," Locke says with hesitancy, already regretting his answer. He has kept his personal story of resurrection secret to the group; they already know he's from the future, and that's all they need to know.

"A passenger jet was transporting a dead body?" Nadine asks, perplexed.

Locke struggles to reveal his story; instead, he substitutes another story for his own. "One of the survivors, a doctor named Jack Shepherd; his father died in Sydney. He was transporting the coffin back to L.A. for the funeral."

Nadine shuffles backwards. "Is the body still inside?"

Locke pushes his fingers along the seams of the coffin to pry it open. Everyone circles in suspense; Alex closes her eyes and presses her face into her Mother's side. Locke pauses and looks back. "There's nothing to be afraid of Alex."

The jungle is eerily quiet; Montand readies his axe in case of an unpleasant surprise. Locke has everyone's utmost attention, moments he always relishes; he takes his hands off the coffin and shares the rest of Jack Shepherd's story. "Several days after the crash, Jack saw his father standing on the beach," Locke proceeds in a hushed tone; the group tightens the circle to listen. "Jack immediately chased him into the jungle."

Alex curiously opens her eyes and turns her head. "And then what happened?" she asks.

"He led Jack to a stream with fresh drinking water, which the survivors desperately needed. And then, suddenly…"

Locke pauses for suspense, Alex's eyes widen; she hugs her Mother's leg tightly.

"…Jack saw the coffin." Locke straightens his posture and grips the side of the coffin. "But when he looked inside…" Lock pulls upward, the hinges creak as the casket swings open. "There was nobody there." Everyone gasps, their eyes locked in suspense; the casket is just as empty as when Locke left it twenty years ago. Alex and her Mother both breathe a sigh of relief.

"You Americans like to tell ghost stories," Montand complains, throwing his axe over his shoulder to return to tree cutting. "You like to believe in such nonsense."

"Montand, you remind me a lot of Jack," Locke replies with his finger pointed, his demeanor defensive. "Ghost story or not, I'm somebody who believes in miracles and so should you. All of us are alive because of a miracle; we crashed on an Island and somehow inexplicably, we survived."

Suddenly, the jungle's silence is disturbed by a gust of wind stirring the treetops. The casket door slams shut. Alex slowly steps away from her Mother, with short controlled breaths; although her heart is racing, she stands firmly, staring eye to eye with Locke. She desires his approval, wanting to be brave like her Uncle. Her breathing relaxes; Locke smirks subtly, proudly. A moving shadow darkens the woods surrounding them. Alex looks up and sees a colorful object as big as a cloud eclipsing the sun. It's round and adorned with colors like a rainbow; orange, yellow, red, and blue.

"Look Mommy, look!" she stands on her tippy toes and points to the hot air balloon. It's partially deflated, moving swiftly in the wind like a kite without a string, barely skirting the tree tops.

Locke watches it clear the trees and soar out over the water, heading toward the main Island; its descent is imminent and hopefully not lethal to the pilot. "Montand, Lacombe; pack a days worth of food and come with me in the outrigger. No guns; only your hunting knives."

"Where are you going, Uncle Locke?" Alex asks, hoping one day he'll choose her to come along.

"I'll be back in a couple days. I'm going to see Uncle Richard."


	74. The Rescue of John Locke p4

_"We did find your balloon, Henry Gale, exactly how you described it._  
><em>We also found the grave you described; your wife's grave.<em>  
><em>The grave you said you dug with your own bare hands.<em>  
><em>It was all there. Your whole story; your alibi; it was true.<em>  
><em>But still I did not believe it to be true.<em>  
><em>So I dug up that grave and found<em>  
><em>that there was not a woman inside.<em>  
><em>There was a man. A man named Henry Gale."<em>

_-Sayid Jarrah_

* * *

><p><em>Inside the Temple<br>October 10__th__, 1999_

Dogen's personal assistant guides Locke through the temple corridor leading to Richard's quarters. He's a peculiar man; slender with scruffy hair and goatee, sporting John Lennon glasses like a Woodstock hippie. He was born on the Island which means he's considered pure by temple standards. He grew up admiring temple master Dogen; learning Japanese language and culture, and eventually serving as his translator.

Locke pauses for a moment to admire the symbols inscribed into the ancient walls.

"Don't touch anything," the assistant snaps. He's unaccommodating to temple guests, especially those coming from Hydra. When they arrived at the temple, he allowed only Locke to enter, deeming the two Frenchmen unclean in terms of temple standards. He's arrogant, haughty; like an only child spoiled by a self serving religion; he values the Island's sacredness over the welfare of others.

"You have a visitor, Master Alpert," he says, knocking on what looks like a door to an ancient dungeon.

"Come in," Richard replies, lowering his book and reading spectacles.

"_Master_ Alpert?" Locke grins facetiously. "You've got to be kidding me. What happened to all of you since I left?"

Dogen's assistant crosses arms and steps in between them like a temple bouncer. "What happened is, order has been established in the temple; and if you don't like it, you can go back to Hydra."

"Is that so?" Locke replies, his voice calm but his eyes beaming with anger. "Well, allow me to establish a little order myself." Locke lifts him by the collar and tosses him outside, his body weight nothing compared to the timber he's been clearing for the runway. "There; that's much better," he says, slamming the door.

Richard remains calm, closing his book without marking the page. "How can I help you John?"

"Master Richard, I'll spare you any more temple formalities and get right to the point. For the last two days, three of us have scouted the main Island and were unable to find any trace of him," Locke explains.

"Trace of who?" Richard responds, staring blankly.

"Henry Gale. Born August 11, 1964. Current residence 815 Walnut Ridge Road, Wayzata, Minnesota," Locke rambles memorized facts, catching Richard off guard. "I remember 815 because conveniently it's the same as Oceanic; don't ask me how I know the rest. His hot air balloon was in trouble two days ago and landed somewhere on the Island."

Richard bows his head and concedes, finding it difficult to hide anything from a man who knows the future. He walks to the corner of the room and pulls back a sheet covering a dead body stiffened with rigor mortis. "We found the balloon yesterday and recovered the body. He died of a broken neck."

Locke kneels and immediately notices signs of a struggle on the body. "This man was murdered," he concludes.

Richard looks away nervously, pressing his tongue behind his front teeth. "If one of our people killed him, it wasn't murder. We have the right to kill anyone we feel is a threat to the Island."

"The _right_ to kill?" Locke steps closer, preventing Richard's eyes from wondering. "Is this really what Jacob wants?" he pleads, pointing to the body. "This man had every right to come here. You don't have to be born on the Island to be special. I wasn't born here and neither _were you_."

"They're your people too, John," Richard replies, trying to share the burden of leadership. "Maybe if you were still here in the temple, things would be different."

"Maybe we should put Alex Rousseau in charge, she was born here!" Locke offers throwing his hands up. "That's why there are two camps, Richard. I'm not leading the temple any longer. They don't respect me, even though I've proven to them I know the future," Locke answers, feeling justified.

Richard becomes emboldened as the wisdom imparted to him by Jacob surfaces in his heart. "Knowing the future makes you special, John; but it doesn't make you a leader."

Locke backs away in a defensive posture, placing both hands on his hips. "And what makes you special?"

Richard answers softly, full of confidence. "Because I know Jacob."

Locke turns to leave before their conversation gets any more personal. "I'm going back to Hydra to continue building the runway. If anyone from the temple harms one of my friends or the plane they're coming on, there's going to be a war on this Island."

Richard pulls out a photo tucked away in the back of his book. "Tell me John; is this man coming on your plane?"

Locke holds the picture to the light to identify; the man is dressed in 80's office attire, sitting at a desk with an oversize CRT computer screen. "Benjamin Linus? Yes, unfortunately."

"Then war's already coming."


	75. The Rescue of John Locke p5

_"On the Island; in the Orchid station, below the greenhouse.  
>I told him I was sorry for making his life so miserable,<br>and then he left."_

_-Benjamin Linus_

* * *

><p>"What do you know about him?" Richard asks, seeing the look of disgust on Locke's face.<p>

Locke studies the picture up close; it's the same one Miles carried around to identify him. He's wearing a sweater vest over a pinstripe shirt, an outfit matching the times the Polaroid was taken. It's been over twenty years since Locke saw the man who made his life so miserable. Twenty years ago; two moments in two different worlds: one in a Los Angeles hotel room, gasping for his final breath; the other on board Oceanic 815 just before the flash of light.

"He's a liar, a manipulator, and uses other people's identities; ironically, he first introduced himself to me as Henry Gale." Locke hands the photo back, wanting nothing to do with him. "Unfortunately, your people killed the wrong Henry Gale."

Richard glances one more time at the photo. "I believe he's coming to the Island to kill Jacob."

Locke shrugs his shoulders, not bothered. "Then I suppose you have nothing to worry about since Jacob isn't around."

"But he'll turn his people against him which could be even worse." He tucks the photo back in the pages of his book; his hands noticeably shaky, his eyes filled with concern. Locke has never seen Richard so uptight; apparently the burden of leadership has been overwhelming, especially since the man whom the Temple was built to honor has been missing for decades.

Locke opens the door to leave, figuring Richard is overreacting. "If you're that threatened by him, just make sure he doesn't get off the plane."

Richard grabs him by the shoulder to keep him from leaving. "I won't be here, John."

Locke turns, giving him his full attention. "You won't?"

"I'm leaving the Island to look for Jacob." Richard takes a deep breath, gathering courage to explain his decision. "You were right about Henry Gale. What's happening in the Temple is not what Jacob wants. The people are out of control. This place means nothing without Jacob in charge."

Locke shakes his head, shocked to see his centuries old friend so rattled. "You can't leave, Richard. The submarine left in 1977 and never returned. And we've already agreed not to move the Island; if you do that, you'll kill everyone on board 815."

"I'm leaving, but not by moving the Island," Richard assures. He kneels next to Henry Gale's corpse and pulls the sheet back over his face. "The Island has provided me another way."

* * *

><p><em>24 hours later<em>

Locke leaves the temple and hikes the trail leading back to the beach facing Hydra Island. The aroma of campfire smoke fills the air as he gets close; the two Frenchmen have set up camp next to the outrigger waiting for Locke's return. Montand pulls out his knife after hearing footsteps coming from the bushes behind him.

"Thanks for waiting," Locke greets them as he emerges from the woods. "Glad I don't have to swim back."

Montand slips his knife back in the sheath, relieved to see his friend. "What did Richard say?"

"Henry Gale is dead, just as I predicted," Locke answers. "But something I did not predict is Richard leaving the Island to look for Jacob."

"He's leaving?" asks Montand. "But how?"

"Montgolfière!" Lacomb points to the sky after spotting a hot air balloon rising above the mountain tops in the distance.

Locke shields his eyes from the sun as he watches the balloon drift higher into the clouds. "Richard has apparently lost his mind in his quest to find the allusive Jacob. I tried convincing him that there's a safer way to leave in September 2004, but he was unwilling to wait any longer. He's hoping the winds carry him to the shores of Asia. It's a suicide mission if you ask me."

Locke takes a seat in the soft sand next the campfire; the Frenchmen join the circle by sitting across from him, throwing on another log to keep the flame going. "Without Richard being our ally in the temple, these next five years are going to be difficult," Locke explains, poking the flames with a long stick.

"Do you know something else about the future?" asks Lacombe.

Locke nods quietly, staring into the crackling campfire. "When I arrived here in 2004, there was a group of people living on the Island that terrorized our camp. They kidnapped children and a woman that was pregnant. They were able to infiltrate by pretending to be fellow survivors. We called them "Others", for lack of a better word. Come to find out, the Others were actually the people living at the Temple; the once peace loving followers of Jacob turned into a cult of murderers."

"And you believe it's happening all over again?" asks Montand.

Locke nods while taking his stick from the fire and watching the end burn like a candle. "Unfortunately, the man who was their leader is coming on our plane."

"What should we do?" asks Lacombe.

Locke smothers the stick into the sand; a thin stream of smoke rises. "The only way to beat him is to _contain_ him. I've got an idea I think will work."

* * *

><p><em>September 22, 2004<em>  
><em>On board Oceanic 815<em>

Sawyer awakens and clenches his jaw; the toothpick still fresh between his molars. He feels a tiny circular object in his jean pocket. He reaches in and pulls out Juliet's engagement ring. "Well I'll be damned, Locke was right." He looks around, hoping to personally thank him for talking him out of burying it on Hydra Island. Locke's wheelchair sits empty in the aisle, rolling freely around with the sway of the airliner. "Speaking of Locke, where is he?"

"We left him," Jack answers, bowing his head ashamed.

"You what?" Sawyer demands, crushing the toothpick between his teeth.

Jack covers his face with his hands, feeling responsible for circumstances even he couldn't control. "I left him inside the Well. He wasn't able to cross back over with us."

The wing flaps suddenly extend, and the engines throttle down to prepare for descent. A raspy voice comes through the intercom to inform the passengers. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain. Looks like that 305 bearing has finally brought us to our destination. Take a peak out the left window and you'll see the Island you once called home. You crashed the first time you folks got here only because you had the wrong pilot in the cockpit. We'll be in the air until I find the right patch to set this bird down. In the meantime, stay seated and keep those belts buckled!"

The airliner vibrates as the landing gear unfolds beneath their feet. Hurley jumps into the nearest seat and tightens his belt buckle. Claire leans her chair into the upright position; she massages her pregnant belly and takes short controlled breaths through her nose and out her mouth, trying to remain calm. Jack and Kate press their heads firmly against the headrest; they share the armrest between them and hold hands tightly.

Sawyer bravely unbuckles and walks toward the front of the plane.

"Where are you going?" Kate winces nervously.

"Tellin' Lapidus to turn the damn plane around. I'm through with this, Kate. We already saved the Island; there's nothing left for us to do. I'm going back to L.A. and finding the hospital where Juliet works."

"We have to go back, Sawyer," Jack pleads.

"Go back, _again_? What the hell for, Doc?"

Jack points to the empty wheelchair blocking the aisle. "Locke sacrificed everything in order to save us; _we're not going back to L.A without him_."

Sawyer sighs and keeps walking toward the cockpit.

"We have to go back!" Jack yells loud enough for the entire plane to hear. Kate consoles him by squeezing his hand.

Sawyer pauses and looks back. "Cool it, Doc. That's the last time I ever want to hear you say those words. We ain't got a choice but to go back if Locke's still down there. I still need to get to the cockpit and show Lapidus where the damn runway is."

Jack rears his head slightly with a puzzled look. "There's a runway?" he asks, his voice calm again.

"Yeah; on Hydra Island. Kate and I cleared rocks from it when the Others captured us. Let's hope Locke was smart enough to finish it faster this time around."

* * *

><p>Sawyer secures himself into the copilot chair and scans the Hydra Island landscape for a stretch of cleared land. "On the other side of that mountain, Chief," he points out.<p>

The plane clears the ridge; the terrain deepens into a valley. "I see it!" Lapidus shouts, pushing down on the controls. "No need to go around for another pass, I'm setting her down!"

Sawyer clears his throat and grabs the intercom mic. "Keep those seatbelts tight folks, we're comin' in for a landing."

Lapidus steers the plane in a curved descent then pitches the nose slightly upward. The blurry green landscape of miniature trees becomes life size as touchdown nears. The draft from the wings stirs a cloud of dust from the runway. Wheels touch. The soft glide ends abruptly as the weight of the aircraft settles over the compacted ground, rumbling over the washboard surface like a semi-truck speeding down a dirt road. The shaking is as intense as an earthquake. "Hang on!" Lapidus switches the engines in reverse. The dust cloud overtakes the cockpit view as the plane slows to a hault. The length of runway is enough for a landing with 50 meters or so to spare. "We did it!"

The passengers unbuckle their belts, eager to stand after such a bumpy ride. The oxygen masks hang loosely above their heads, skirting their hair as they each leave their seats. The dust clears from the cabin windows; Jack takes a look outside and sees a crowd of people emerge from the woods and encircle the plane.

"They knew we were coming," he says to Kate watching alongside of him.

"Do you think it's a trap?" she asks.

The crowd pushes a wooden platform level to the plane's door. An elderly man is forced to kneel at the bottom step of the platform by several guards armed with rifles. He's blindfolded with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Jack's heart races. "Locke's in trouble."

Sayid, Hurley, and Ben join them at the windows to see what the commotion is. "That old dude is Locke?" Hurley asks.

"It's only been 20 minutes; but for Locke, it's been over 20 years." Jack runs up the aisle toward the passenger entry. He rotates the red handle to open the door; Sawyer jumps out of the cockpit and stops him before it's too late. "You tryin' to get us killed Doc?" He wrestles the handle in the closing direction, overpowering Jack.

"He's why we came back." Jack fights back, determined; wrestling Sawyer for the handle. "I'm not leaving him behind."

Sayid steps in between and keeps the door from opening. "Jack; listen to me. If you open this door, you are compromising the security of everyone else on board. May I remind you; our first confrontation with these people was quite unpleasant."

"Alright." Jack stops struggling for the door, but maintains his heavy exaggerated breathing. "What should we do?"

"Jack's right." Ben turns from the window, his eyes bulging out as if his head was inflating. "The only way Locke can enter the plane is through that door. You have one other means of security; the door to the cockpit is bulletproof. The two people that should be in there are the pilot and your sister; save her and you save two people."

Jack nods, still breathing hard. He motions to Claire. She walks the aisle and enters the cockpit; Lapidus gives final instruction before shutting the cockpit door. "If anything crazy happens, you make sure you secure the door to the plane so I can turn around and takeoff."

Jack grabs the red handle again. Sayid stands guard at the door in case of a sudden attack. Everyone else takes a window seat to watch what unfolds. The crowd of Others have the plane surrounded but stand at a nonthreatening distance. The guards are poised with rifles pointed at Locke's head. Jack rotates the handle and swings the door open. The crowd hushes to complete silence; he stands quietly on the platform edge waiting for a response.

"We know you've come to rescue John Locke," shouts one of the guards. "We request a prisoner exchange; John's life for one of yours."

Jack's eyes glaze with tears as he steps forward to pay the ultimate price. He feels Kate staring at him through the window; he turns and finds her face behind the foggy glass. "Take me," he says, without reluctance.

Whispers can be heard throughout the crowd. The guards discuss the exchange amongst themselves; one of them pulls a Polaroid picture to identify the prisoner they're seeking.

Ben Linus steps out on to the platform with his hands raised. "They don't want you Jack. They want me." The crowd grows louder as they recognize his face; jeering Ben, pointing fingers and pumping fists.

He descends the platform and offers his hands to the guards to be handcuffed. "Take me to your leader," he says, drooping his head in defeat.


	76. The Rescue of John Locke p6

x  
>x<p>

**********-Part 6-  
>The Rescue of John Locke<strong>********

The ropes binding Locke's wrists behind his back loosen and fall to the ground. The blindfold covering his eyes is lifted. The sudden exposure to sunlight shrinks his pupils. He blinks to shield his eyes from the blowing sand as he looks upon the enormous airliner parked before him. The experience feels like a dream; one he's envisioned every day for the last twenty seven years. The crisp paint of the Oceanic Logo sparkles in the sun. The turbine fans quietly spin from the momentum leftover from flight. His friends step on to the boarding platform to come out and greet him.

Jack is first to descend. He approaches a little hesitant, hardly recognizing his friend who's old enough to be his grandfather. His tan complexion is rough as leather; the scar across his right eye has pronounced with age. His wizard like beard flows from his cheeks to his chest. The skin of his lips is colorless and dry; his grin is barely distinguishable, making it difficult to express the elation he feels seeing everyone back on the Island.

"Thanks for the rescue, Jack," he says, his voice gruff like an old cowboy.

"Locke." Jack extends his hand and helps him to his feet. "Thank you for building the runway."

The guards strap Ben's hands with the ropes and pull him away like a dog on a leash. The crowd follows from behind, leaving the runway on to a trail that leads back to the ferry.

Sayid steps off the boarding platform to join Locke and Jack on the tarmac. "How long have you been imprisoned by the Hostiles?"

Locke massages the rope marks on his wrists. "Two years; but it was entirely necessary."

"Necessary?" Sayid repeats.

Locke retrieves his staff from the ground, completing his wizard-like character. "For over a decade, the people have been divided into two camps; those in the temple, and those on Hydra. Everything turned to hell when Richard left. The people at the temple had the upper hand with weapons. They came to Hydra and captured me first; after a year of fighting, there was a truce and everyone came back together. A new leader arose; she's a friend of mine, and thought it was best to keep me in captivity in order to maintain the peace. Better to be held captive than be dead, I suppose."

Sayid watches Ben being escorted away by the guards. "Why would Benjamin Linus want to surrender to these people?"

Locke looks over his shoulder; his eyes meet with Ben's for a few cold seconds. "His ambition is to take over the Island. He'll start with the temple; surrendering was the quickest way to get there. I'm sure he's already scheming to take control. But he's in for a surprise when he meets their leader; she's the only person I'm confident he will not be able to outwit."

"Who is she?" Jack asks, curious.

"His beloved daughter from another life; _Alex Rousseau_."

* * *

><p><em>On board "The Elizabeth"<br>Somewhere in the South Pacific  
>July 2003<em>

Desmond Hume reaches beneath his mattress for the bottle of Macutcheon. Times like these he could really use a drink. Alone at sea, hopeless; the absence of civilization in every direction can wreak havoc on a sailor's mind. It's pitch dark below deck; he's disconnected the ship's battery to conserve power. Rations are low, which means having to conserve meals too. The stormy sea is relentless; for three days he's been helplessly drifting without sail. His location is unknown, except that he's somewhere in the south Pacific.

A massive wave suddenly pounds the boat; he holds tightly to the railing without letting go of the Macutcheon. He stole it from his father-in-law's liquor cabinet as a personal trophy of sorts. He promised himself he wouldn't drink until his around-the-world voyage is complete, but the finale most likely won't be as celebratory as he once imagined. He tucks the bottle away to avoid temptation and turns on his flashlight instead, looking to the photo of Penny taped to the ceiling above his bunk. Her smiling face soothes his soul; he stares until his eyelids close and the flashlight dims into darkness.

He falls asleep despite the stormy seas. Moments later, he awakens to calm stillness. Well rested, his eyes slowly open; the image of Penny still watching over him, illuminated from the sunlight now pouring through the cabin windows. The storm has finally passed. Seagulls circle and chirp close by, which means land isn't too far away. He ascends the steps and opens the door to the deck; the sea is as smooth as glass and the sky is blue.

To his amazement, he's drifting between two tropical Islands; one off starboard, the other off port. One has a beach which extends for miles, the other island much smaller. The thought of grilling meat over a campfire is enticing; he considers anchoring and setting up camp on shore.

Suddenly, an object falling from the sky catches his eye. It's suspended by a large green military parachute, slowly descending to the smaller island. He scrambles to find his binoculars below deck; he comes back out, quickly adjusting the lenses to focus. It's a supply pallet stacked with boxes.

His heart races with excitement; not only has he found land, but civilization as well. He runs to the ship's bow and cranks the handle which lowers the anchor, then packs a hiking bag to make camp.

* * *

><p><em>Hydra Island<br>2 hours later_

Desmond ventures in the direction he watched the parachute disappear. The sun is setting on the horizon, leaving him little time of daylight visibility. The temperature cools as nighttime nears; a thick fog descends from the mountaintops into the valley. He sees a clearing just ahead; he emerges from the jungle on to what feels like a huge empty parking lot. The soil is tightly compacted and the clearing is large enough to land an airliner. A strobe light flashes intermittently in the fog, luring him to the middle of the strip. He approaches cautiously, realizing it's the pallet with the parachute partially draped over it. He uses a pocket knife to cut through the covering and finds boxes containing cereal, peanut butter, dried fruit, rice, and chocolate bars.

He cuts an opening in a package then peels back the purple wrapper of an Apollo chocolate bar. His mouth drenches with saliva as his eyes covet the chocolate covered ridges. He bites down after shoving it to the back of his mouth; he closes his eyes as his teeth sink into the chocolaty nuttiness.

His moment of enjoyment is cut short by the sudden sound of footsteps behind him. "Put your hands where I can see them," demands the girl with the rifle.

Desmond's unable to speak with his mouth full of chocolate chew. He raises his hands and slowly turns; a dozen or so teenagers surround him like a crew of high school bandits.

One of the boys blinds Desmond by shining a flashlight. "Put a bullet in his head, Alex," he shouts. "The Hostiles killed your parents. He's only getting what he deserves."

"I don't recognize him." She steps closer, nudging Desmond with the rifle. "He's not one of them," she says, shaking her head. "Who are you?" she demands, poking him in the chest. "Did you parachute here?"

Desmond swallows a portion, allowing just enough air out of his throat to form a single word. "Boat," he answers chewing, his teeth darkened with chocolate.

"Don't believe him," says another teenager, his voice a little deeper than the other boy.

Alex raises the butt of her rifle and apologizes before knocking Desmond out cold.

"Sorry about this."

*Smack!*

* * *

><p><em>One Year Later<br>September 22__nd__, 2004  
>Hydra Island<em>

"She's the only person I'm confident he will not be able to outwit."

"Who is she?" Jack asks, curious.

"His beloved daughter from another life; _Alex Rousseau_."

Sawyer struts over from the boarding platform, his dimpled smirk grows as he gets closer. "I know it's been twenty somethin' years, but I want to thank you."

"Thank me for what, James?" Locke replies.

Sawyer brings the engagement ring out of his pocket. "For talking me into keeping this."

Locke smiles, recalling the tense moment of Sawyer's faith being tested. "Now all you need to do is find her and hope she didn't meet somebody else."

Hurley steps off the platform and joins the gathering. "Dude, your beard is awesome man. So, are we all going to hang out here for a while or are we going to finally make it back to LAX?"

"Hugo, I've hung out on the Island for too long; it's time to go home," Locke replies.

"Right on man," Hurley says, relieved that even Locke agrees the Island is through with all of them.

The bushes rustle at the woods edge; a familiar Scotsman appears, rushing over to stop them from boarding. "Wait! You mustn't leave, brutha!"

"Uh, what?" Hurley's eyes twitch back and forth then settle in Jack's direction. "Dude, how did he get here?"

Desmond runs up to Locke, panicky. "You mustn't leave! All of you must stay!"

Locke calmly grabs Desmond by the shoulders. "Did Alex send you?"

"No!" Desmond leans over to catch his breath from his sprint across the runway. "You did! _From the future_!"


	77. The Rescue of John Locke p7

x  
>x<p>

**********-Part 7-  
>The Rescue of John Locke<strong>********

Desmond's eyes slowly retract to a dimly lit room; the last thing he remembers is the impact of the back end of a rifle. A young woman leans over him; her blue eyes stunning, her soft brunette hair unravels from behind her neck and dangles down to his nose. She presses a rag full of ice to the gash across his forehead. "So sorry I hit you," she whispers, sensing he's awakening. The cold relieves the swelling but sharpens his headache. Water mixed with blood trickles down his temple and touches his lips.

He tugs his forearms and feels the restraint of ropes binding him to the chair. The wooden enclosure they're inside of is the size of a backyard shed. He can see the trees outside through the slits between the boards. He smells a faint aroma like dust burning on hot metal. He looks to his left and right; two massive copper coils are mounted to the walls. Electrical wires suspended above the shed hum like swarming insects. Strands of Alex's hair float upward from the static charge.

"If you were any other man, you would instantly die from exposure to radiation. But you're somebody extremely special, Desmond," Alex explains, her tone sounding apologetic for what's about to happen.

"How do you know my name?" he asks, wiggling his wrists to get free.

She dips the rag in the cool water and reapplies it to his forehead. "When I was really young, I found an empty coffin in the woods. My Uncle Locke told me it came from a plane that crashed and that the man's ghost roamed the Island."

"What are you talkin' about?" he screams, rocking to break the chair free.

"Shhhhh," she hushes him gently, placing a finger to his mouth. "Several days ago, the man from the coffin came to visit me," she whispers as if she were sharing a secret.

Desmond stops struggling, curious about her story.

"He told me that one day I would become leader of the Temple and bring peace to the Island. But before that could ever happen, a man sailing around the world would anchor his boat close to shore."

"Aye," Desmond nods to go along, hoping to talk her out of her madness. "And I suppose the ghost told you to capture me and fry me in an electric chair?"

"It's the only way." She slides the bucket of cold water and backs away. "He wants to visit you too."

"Don't leave me here!" Desmond begs, wrestling the restraints.

Alex secures the door shut and radios her friends inside the Hydra Station. "I'm clear of the platform. Set the generator full power before pulling the switch."

The coils radiate heat as the voltage intensifies. "Get me out of here!" Desmond gathers strength to break the chair from its fastening to the floor; he loses his balance and falls sideways while still helplessly strapped to the chair. The copper coils flash like lightning within a cloud; electromagnetic energy pulsates off and on like a gigantic strobe light. He can feel the energy permeate his insides like chicken cooking in a microwave. "Help me!" His state of mind blurs; his recollection of events leading to him being on the Island can no longer be recalled. He fights to stay lucid, but slowly slips into unconsciousness.

*Silence*

* * *

><p>Desmond is mesmerized by the colorful light pouring through the stained glass windows. For the moment he doesn't remember how he got here. He figures he must have dozed off during Sunday service, yet nobody else is in the sanctuary. He stands from the back pew and sees an open casket at the front of the church. He makes his way up the center aisle, touching each pew as he passes; the lights hanging from the ceiling glow with a heavenly brilliance. What would normally be too bright seems just right in this extraordinary place.<p>

He approaches the man in the coffin slowly, with reverence. He doesn't recognize his face, but suddenly gets an eerie sense he's not alone.

"My father died in Sydney," says the mourner seated in the front pew.

Desmond freezes in stance; he doesn't recall anyone being there when he came forward. He slowly turns and recognizes a familiar friend.

"Jack?" he says, relieved.

"Hey Desmond." Jack looks down to the bible he has opened in his lap.

"What are you doing?" he asks, still confused as to where they are.

"I'm reading my favorite passage; John, chapter twenty. The part where Jesus's disciple has trouble believing He had actually resurrected." Jack looks up, his eyes filled with tears yet he doesn't seem to be upset. "Have you read it before?"

"Aye; doubting Thomas," Desmond affirms, his mind now somehow at ease in this peaceful place. "Anyone that's ever been to Sunday school knows about him."

Jack looks back down and reads the text aloud. "And He said to Thomas: _reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe_."

Desmond stands there quietly puzzled, anticipating Jack to finish the rest of the passage.

"Did he?" he asks.

"Did he what?"

"_Believe_?" Desmond asks.

Jack closes the bible and sets it on the pew. "It was easy for him after reaching into the wound. The difficulty is believing when you have nothing to reach for."

Desmond feels a tingling sensation along his abdomen. He looks down and sees his shirt drenched in blood; he instinctively lifts his shirt and touches the gaping wound with his fingers. "What is happening!"

Jack calmly kneels at his side and examines the wound. "I can save you, Desmond; but I need you to step out of the boat."

"What boat?" Desmond asks, the lighting in the church suddenly becomes blinding.

* * *

><p>The sailboat is docked safely at the marina, floating at a standstill in the calm waters of the harbor.<p>

"What boat?" Desmond mumbles and fidgets while sleeping, suddenly awaking in bed. He remains calm, trying not wake Penny like he did after his previous vision the night before. He feels a dull pain along his abdomen. He lifts his shirt and notices a raised purplish scar along the left side.

Penny awakens and flips on the lamp next to the bed. "Not again," she whispers, her eyes filled with concern. She scoots in closer and kisses his shoulder. "Another memory of the Island?" she figures.

He lowers his shirt discretely, hoping Penny didn't see the scar. "I was with Jack, but it wasn't on the Island," he answers, concentrating on his vision while it's still vivid in his mind. "We were inside the church."

"Yes?" she asks, wanting to know further details.

"I don't know, Pen." He fits on his slippers and walks toward the stairwell. "I think I need some fresh air."

"Alright, but don't be long dear. It's still very early."

He climbs the stairs and opens the door to the moonlit night. He walks out on the deck, taking a fresh dose of early morning ocean scented air. He feels the purplish scar along his abdomen while concentrating again on his vision.

An elderly man with a long flowing beard approaches from the dock. His pace is slow and steady; he's using a wooden staff with bible verse carvings to help with his balance. "A sacrifice was required from all of us, Desmond," he says, his speech slow and gruff.

Desmond is startled by the old man; it's unusual somebody would be walking the docks this early in the morning. The moonlight reveals the man's face as he approaches; a faint scar crosses his right eye, starting diagonally from his forehead, then below the eye.

"Who the hell are you?" Desmond calls from the deck.

"My name is John Locke, and I've come to ask you a favor."

Desmond steps out of the boat and onto the dock. "What kind of favor?"

"Deliver a message," Locke replies, crouching over his staff like a six foot tall Yoda. "I need you to tell my niece on the Island something very important."

Desmond's heart sinks in his chest; he's already promised Penny he would never again put his life in jeopardy searching for the Island. "The Island? You want me to go back?"

"Not back," Locke clarifies. "Right now it's 2007. But you're there already, _in the past_ three years ago." He holds up three fingers to emphasize the point then touches them to his forearm to illustrate a bridge. "Your mind is the key to _bridging_ the past."

Desmond massages his forehead to relieve his time jumping headache. Just when his mind grasps current reality, he's confronted by evidence his visions of the past are real. "I don't understand!"

"Shhh," Locke puts a finger to his lips. The light below deck turns on, which means Penny is getting out of bed to check on him. "There's no time to explain. As soon as you see Penny again, you're going to wake up. Listen carefully; I need you to tell Alex to...

* * *

><p><em>Hydra Island<em>  
><em>2004<em>

Desmond awakens to light beaming into the back of his eyelids. He opens his eyes to a group of teenagers pointing flashlights. "He's waking up Alex," they whisper.

"Give him space," she commands.

Desmond rolls on his side out of the chair; his arms and legs no longer restrained by ropes. His skin is sunburn and his hair smells like smoke from an electrical fire. The wooden enclosure is baking like a sauna; the copper coils on the walls still dissipating heat like a cooling oven. A refreshing wind blows through the crevices of the boarded walls.

Alex kneels and illuminates her face with a flashlight. "Did you see the man in the coffin?"

"Aye," Desmond nods, his mind resetting back to Island reality. He lifts his shirt; the scars on his abdomen are no longer there. "And I spoke with your Uncle Locke."

"What was the message?" she asks, relieved.

"He wants you to_ dig the Well."_

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings Readers! To clarify, Desmond awakening on Our Mutual Friend happened all the way back in chapter 59, I'm finally able to link back to that part! Now it makes sense Locke was an old man at the time, right! I'm so excited about this series, more to come!<strong>


	78. The Rescue of John Locke p8

_x_  
><em>x<em>

"_My son died here for the sake of this Island.  
>Your wife; my own daughter, hates me.<br>And I've never even met my grandson.  
>But if you won't help me, Desmond,<br>all of it will be for nothing."  
><em>_-Charles Widmore_

* * *

><p>It's been a strenuous week for the Hume family. Desmond's visions are affecting him in ways where Penny now questions his sanity. Each one of them are puzzle pieces to his missing past on the Island. He doesn't remember 2004, and for good reason; since the rules of time travel don't apply to him, his experience on the Island has yet to be determined. 2004 was the year he set sail on the Elizabeth in a race around the world; his radio fell silent after his vessel encountered stormy seas in the South Pacific. Several months later, he was found without his boat, naked in a state of delirium on the Island of Guam by U.S. military personnel.<p>

The visions he's having aren't exactly memories per se. Some are dreams to be interpreted. Most are experiences in his past still in the process of forming. They usually surface in intermittent flashes, similar to the Island's version of time skipping but within the realm of his own consciousness. Some are joyous moments, such as watching Oceanic 815 land on Hydra Island. Some are frightening; like being strapped to a chair and tortured by electromagnetism. He prefers to keep the visions to himself, suffering quietly, all alone, except for the ones that wake him in bed next to Penny. He's especially needed her these last three years; she's the only one anchoring him to his present reality while the visions pull him into his past. However, it is inevitable; the chain of events that have brought him to where he is now must happen; the first of which takes place on the docks in the harbor of Long Beach, California.

It's early morning when he walks out on the deck of the sailboat to take a fresh scent of ocean scented air. He was awakened by a vision where he was inside the church talking with Jack. He's startled by an elderly man approaching on the docks with a wooden staff in hand; he's seeking Desmond in order to pass a message to someone on the Island. The window of time to give him instructions is closing soon, since Penny is coming up the steps to check on him.

* * *

><p>"If you don't mind me asking, brutha; you've come all the way here in the darkness of night just to tell me, to tell a young gal on the Island to dig a Well?" Desmond responds, confused at the urgency of digging for water in a rain forest.<p>

"Her name is Alex Rousseau," old man Locke explains further. "Tell her to bring her people to the Orchid. In the woods directly to the west are a set of stones placed in a circle like Stonehenge; at its center is the ancient Well buried by the Dharma Initiative. Excavate it and hang a rope to the bottom. Your job Desmond will be to make sure the passengers of Oceanic get there before Benjamin Linus."

"Why?"

Locke points to Desmond's abdomen. "Do you remember now how you received the wound?"

"Not really." Desmond feels the raised purplish skin underneath his shirt which seems to have manifested within the dream he just awoke from. "I was in a church. Jack was sitting on the front pew reading a bible verse about the resurrection; I looked down and saw blood. It was a funeral and the casket was open. Jack told me he lost his father in Sydney."

Locke rubs the knot on top of his staff as he attempts to interpret the vision. "Unfortunately, the man you saw in the coffin isn't Jack's father; he's a child born on the Island who's taken on his appearance. If the passengers of Oceanic don't make it to the Orchid in time, the child will surely die."

* * *

><p><em>Hydra Island<br>September 22__nd__, 2004_

The frantic Scotsman emerges from the woods at the edge of the runway. "Wait! You mustn't leave brutha!"

The group pauses from boarding and looks back, immediately recognizing his signature accent. He's wearing a beige Dharma jumpsuit with a rifle slung over his shoulder, the same outfit he wore the first time they discovered him in the hatch. Some stare in disbelief that he's actually there, some not at all surprised the Island has thrown them another curve ball. The journey together so far hasn't been the same without him; and just like before, once the hatch was uncovered and Desmond Hume was released, a new level of adventure was certain to begin.

He runs up to Locke, panicky. "You mustn't leave! All of you must stay!"

Locke grabs Desmond by the shoulders, attempting to calm him. "Did Alex send you?"

"No!" Desmond leans over to catch his breath from his sprint across the runway. "You did! _From the future_!"

"I'm gettin' off this rock whether you like it or not," grumbles Sawyer, stomping his way up the boarding platform. "I've done my time here. Hell, Locke even plugged the hole at the Swan so you wouldn't have to push the damn button!"

"Listen to me!" Desmond slides the rifle strap down his shoulder and takes aim at the landing gear front tire. "I'm taking all of you to the Orchid before Ben Linus has a chance to get there first!"

"Whoa, settle down Desmond." Jack raises his hands in surrender, speaking gently. "What happens if we don't go?"

Suddenly, Claire can be heard screaming in the cockpit. Lapidus peaks his head out the cabin to get help. "Doc! I think she's having the baby! Get up here right now!"

Everyone races up the steps and boards the plane. Jack and Kate enter the cockpit and find Claire leaning on the captain's chair hunched over in pain. Sweat beads across her forehead and drips off the end of her nose. She reaches for Jack's hand and squeezes. "The baby. He's coming Jack," she spouts between short controlled breaths.

Jack shakes his head in denial. "It's too early. You've got at least a month."

She braces her stomach as she endures another contraction. "Try telling _him_ that!"

"Should I get this bird airborne right now?" Lapidus asks, sensing the urgency. "The shortest path to land is back to Sydney, but you've gotta remember Jack, everyone else is thinking 815 is hijacked. By the time they secure the plane and let us out, there's a good chance she's having that baby before ever stepping foot into a hospital."

Kate leans in and squeezes Claire's shoulder. "Claire, listen to me sweetie; you've had the baby before on the Island. You can do this again. _We_ can do this again, _together_."

Kate turns to Jack hoping for further encouragement, but his expression is tense. "She's not having this baby now. It's different than before; he's coming a month early. There could be complications."

Kate's hold on Claire's shoulder goes limp. "Jack, please," she begs him not to argue.

"Lapidus, let's take off for Sydney. I'll look through the luggage for medications to keep her calm," he replies firmly, hoping Kate complies.

She tugs at his shirt and stops him from leaving the cockpit. "Oh that's a great idea, Jack; look through the luggage to find the right kind of medication. You don't think that will take hours? And what if she has the baby while were flying?"

Lapidus pauses from flipping the switches in the cockpit. "Doc, she's got a point."

"We'll take our chances. The closer we get to a hospital, even if we're still flying above water, the better," Jack answers.

"What about the hatch?" Claire exhales quickly, bracing for another contraction any moment.

"There isn't a hatch," Jack replies.

"No, not the one with the button." She pauses a few seconds to endure the pain. "The other one Ethan took me to when he kidnapped me. It was like a hospital. And I remember seeing other women there who were pregnant."

"The Staff," Jack answers, the tension in his voice finally relaxes. "We'll take you there right now. It should have all the right meds to stop the contractions. And if I'm unable to stop them, that's the best place for you to have the baby." Jack looks to Desmond standing with the group outside the cockpit. "Desmond, can you bring us as close as possible with your sailboat?"

"No, brutha."

"Why not?"

"Because in the future, John Locke told me that if I don't get everyone of you to the Orchid, Claire's baby will die!"

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings readers! I hope you're still around...It feels great to finally get another chapter published! One small change; in Chapter 77 I changed Locke's instructions from "Destroy the Orchid" to "Dig the Well", it flows much better with the story..<strong>


	79. The Rescue of John Locke p9

**********-Part 9-  
>The Rescue of John Locke<strong>********

"Because in the future, John Locke told me if I don't get everyone to the Orchid, Claire's baby will die!"

The chaos inside the cockpit falls to a quiet pause. Claire locks eyes with Desmond; her face reddens with fear, her breathing hisses through her nostrils. The gravity of his announcement is overwhelming; she cowers behind Jack and covers her stomach. Her lungs gasp for air at each inhalation; her controlled breathing no longer effective against the sudden onset of anxiety.

"Everything is OK." Kate crouches to her level and calmly whispers. "Breathe, Claire. Your baby's fine. Desmond doesn't know what he's talking about."

"You're right, I don't! I'm just the messenger! If you want to ask the person who does know, you best ask the brutha standing behind me!"

Desmond steps aside and looks back. Locke leans on his staff with both hands; all eyes turn toward him, hoping for an explanation. Claire's breathing relaxes as she shifts her attention to someone less spastic than Desmond. "Maybe Claire's having the contractions because she's trying to leave the Island."

"That's ridiculous," Jack mutters, shaking his head with a nervous smile.

"Haven't you learned anything yet, Jack? Every time we argue matters like this, I always end up right. The Island didn't want us to leave before, but we were still given a choice. Unfortunately, Claire's unborn child isn't able to decide for himself."

Jack's had enough experience with Locke to know it's best to avoid arguments about destiny. He motions his hand to the floor like he's drawing a line. "I'm not bringing Claire to the Orchid."

"I understand you're concerned." Locke massages his beard while brainstorming for a compromise; it's been 27 years since he's had to deal with Jack's stubbornness. "Bring her to the Staff and do everything you can to help her. But those of us who can go to the Orchid should go."

Sayid looks out the window at the rainforest beyond the landing strip. "May I remind everyone, we are back on the Island in 2004. If we are to venture through the jungle to the Orchid, it would be unwise to do so without several of us being armed."

"I got you boys covered," Lapidus says, flipping a switch in the cockpit. "I just unlocked the luggage compartment beneath the plane. Abaddon told me there's a suitcase in there with everything you need, including guns and ammo."

* * *

><p>Lapidus slides headfirst into the opening beneath the belly of the plane after getting a boost from Sawyer and Sayid below. The luggage compartment is the empty space below passenger seating. It's like a basement for an airplane; dark, dingy, useful for storage, and uncomfortable to walk through. He maneuvers to his feet and slowly straightens his posture, being careful not to bump his head on the low ceiling. He stumbles on a wooden box in front of him; he directs his penlight to the floor and sees a coffin jutting from the pile of luggage.<p>

"Good God," he reacts shuffling backwards, unsure if he should continue. His words echo throughout the vast metal hull. The compartment suddenly feels less empty, constrained as if it were tightening all around him. His eyes strain in the limited amount of light as he searches for the suitcase full of guns marked with the black Dharma symbol. He suddenly hears movement in the luggage at the back of the plane.

He freezes in stance. "Somethin's movin' back here!" he warns everyone outside.

"Ouch!" Claire clutches her stomach after feeling a kick. "Someone's moving in me too."

Lapidus pushes through his fear and finds the source of movement at the very back. "You've got to be kidding me. I forgot all about you."

"Ruff! Ruff!" Vincent squeezes his snout between the bars of his pet cage while wagging his tail in excitement.

Claire's stomach bounces again. She looks over to Jack to assure him the baby's fine. "Is it me or did you just hear a dog bark?"

Lapidus opens the cage; Vincent sprints to the front and peaks out the luggage compartment door. "Ruff! Ruff!"

"Vincent!" Sawyer holds out his arms encouraging him to jump down. "Come on, boy! I'll catch you!"

"Ruff!" Vincent takes a dive; Jin, Hurley, and Sayid lean in together with their hands raised, giving Vincent a bigger target. Sawyer takes the brunt of the fall to his chest, falling flat on his back with slobber to his face. Vincent wiggles free and sprints over to Claire, barking as if he wants to play. "Ruff! Ruff!"

"Hi Vincent," she says while petting her stomach to calm the continuous movement inside. "Little Aaron says hi too."

Lapidus lowers the marked suitcase to those standing below; Sawyer releases the latches and finds an arsenal of rifles layered between white puffy winter jackets. He sorts through the guns and ignores the jackets assuming they were packed simply to provide cushion.

Jack secures a rifle strap across his chest grabs Claire's hand. "We're taking you to the Staff right now."

Locke steps forward and makes a suggestion as to how everyone should proceed. "Jack, we should split into three groups. You and Kate go with Claire to the Staff; have Desmond take you to the northern dock with the sailboat."

Vincent tilts his head and whines like a little puppy. *Whine*

"And take Vincent with you."

"Ruff!"

"The rest of you paddle the outriggers to a beach close to the Orchid and find out what Ben Linus is up to." Locke stoops down and picks up a rifle for himself. "Lapidus and I will be waiting for everyone to get back to the plane. Unfortunately, I'm too old to come along; I'll only slow you down."

Sawyer aims his rifle scope at a tree in the distance. "You think Dharma wants us to hunt down Linus?"

Sayid tries on one of the puffy white winter jackets and pulls the hoodie over his head; he's worn similar apparel during winter training as a soldier high in the mountains. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but it is far more likely you will be hunting down another Polar bear."

Hurley finds the triple XL puffy white jacket which was obviously packed just for him. He chuckles to himself while holding it up to his chest. "Dude, I look like a Polar bear."

Sawyer tosses his jacket to the ground. "Don't need this shit on a tropical island."

* * *

><p><em>Three hours later<em>

Hurley, Jin, Sawyer, and Sayid paddle into the shore next to the four toed statue. Jin had the bright idea to steer the outriggers around the Island to here; back when the Island was jumping through time, he remembers seeing the massive statue while standing at the Well. By coming to the closest point from the beach, they've significantly cut their travel time through the jungle, which means getting to the Orchid before Ben Linus and his cohorts ever have a chance.

They camouflage the outriggers in the shrubs at the back of the beach then quickly begin their trek toward the Orchid. Not far along in their journey they notice things uncharacteristic of the Island they know so well. The vegetation is thin and lacking flowers. No buzzing insects. The grass is dry and brown. A cool breeze comes upon them as if they were standing next to an open freezer; the moisture in their breath suddenly becomes visible. They reach the top of a small ridge and see the lower terrain in front of them blanketed with snow. The forest is full of dead trees unaccustomed to the cold climate with spears of icicles hanging from branches. The white wintry scene looks to be a localized phenomenon with the location of the Orchid station at its very center.

Hurley's first to succumb to the effects of the chilly temperature due to his preference of shorts and T-shirt. He pulls out his triple X coat from his backpack and zips it tight to the collar; the warmth quickly restores his body temperature back to normal. He's very comfortable but self conscious at the same time; expecting nicknames like stay puff or polar bear to be hurled by Sawyer any moment. Sayid also zips on his jacket and continues into the frosty wilderness.

"Hold up," Sawyer stands at the snow's edge, hesitating to go any further. "Left my jacket back on Hydra, and so did Jin." Jin shivers and rubs his hands together; he was willing to go further but now he's having second thoughts.

"Dude, I told you guys to bring them," Hurley replies, annoyed.

"Ya ya, tell me about it. How was I supposed to know? We've got rainforests and snow on the same damn Island," Sawyer replies, feeling duped.

"I'll go, alone," Sayid volunteers, in a calm serious voice.

"No," Jin shakes his head firmly.

Sayid rests his hand on Jin's shoulder. "Tell me; when the Island shifted through time, was John Locke the only one who entered the Well to stop what was happening?"

"Yes," Jin answers.

"Unlike John Locke, I am a man who prefers to follow logic. Locke has never wavered in his thinking that all of us collectively play a role whenever a task is to be accomplished on this Island; yet it was his actions alone which stopped the sky from flashing. In addition, retrieving the stone from the Heart of the Island; he was the only one needed. He has solely accomplished two major feats on this Island, while unnecessarily risking everyone else's life in the process. This time, it is I who is up for the challenge."

Sayid retreats backwards into the snow, the sound of crunching ice beneath his feet. He nods to each of his friends as a way of saying goodbye then continues his trek alone into the icy landscape.


	80. The Rescue of John Locke p10

**********-Part 10-  
>The Rescue of John Locke<strong>********

Sayid enters the frozen jungle in search of the excavated well; he's unsure of his mission, except that he makes it to the well in a timely manner. He sinks down to his ankles at every step, the cold powdery terrain slowing his pace considerably. He strips two fallen branches of their twigs and uses them as ski poles to keep himself steady. He notices something peculiar as he ventures deeper into the wintry forest; the tree trunks are covered with frost, yet the branches and leaves have no snow upon them. The snow is different than anything he's seen before; the ice crystals are splintery and transparent, like frost formed over food sitting in a freezer. His poles poke into the frost to the frozen soil beneath. All of this suggests that the source of cold is not a new weather pattern, but an energy void deep beneath the ground; sucking in the surrounding heat like a black hole sweeps in light.

He sees just ahead a ring of stones with a mound of dirt leftover from the excavation; at the center of the ring is a circular column of bricks marking the well entrance. Suddenly, he hears movement crunching in the ice far behind him. He readies his rifle and hides behind a tree. The figure approaching is well camouflaged within the snowy white environment; his first thought is a polar bear, but as it gets closer he sees it's walking upright. He slides the rifle strap back over his shoulder after realizing it was a false alarm. "I thought I made myself clear that it is unnecessary to risk any other lives in this venture."

"Dude, I'm not buying your sappy save-the-Island speech man." Hurley leans against a tree to catch his breath, thankful he caught up to Sayid before he did anything foolish. "You're crazy man. You're really going to drop down that Well all by yourself?"

"Are you willing to come with me?" Sayid asks with smug look.

Hurley swallows before answering. "No."

"Then turn around and go back," Sayid turns to leave.

"No way man. What if you slip? And none of us know what happened to you? You're acting like a moron. Besides, you don't have to go down the well in the first place. All Desmond said was to get to the well before Ben, and we're obviously here first."

Sayid kneels quickly after spotting footprints in the snow. "Shhh," he hushes with a finger to his lips. "It appears that is not the case." They follow the single row of footprints to the edge of the Well. A rope dangles from a pulley system into the shaft; Sayid examines the rope around the pulley. "The footprints are fresh and the rope is warm."

Hurley gulps while looking down the bottomless shaft. "You need me to lower you down?"

"Fortunately, no." Sayid kneels and skims his finger along the shape of the footprint. "These tracks lead _away_ from the well, which means somebody came _up_ from the shaft." He stands and grips his makeshift ski poles. "Let's follow these tracks and perhaps we'll find some answers."

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, at the Staff<em>

Claire opens her eyes, awaking on a soft hospital bed; her pupils adjust to the fluorescent light shining down like a spotlight from the ceiling. The sound of her baby's heartbeat swooshes calmly in the background from the infant monitor. The acoustics of the institutional barren walls and terrazzo floor echoes the rhythm. A hospital like smell of sterilization fills the air. The tape keeping her I-V steady pulls on her arm as she shifts to get comfortable.

Jack pulls his stool forward after noticing she's awake. "How are you?"

"Good," she says, yawning.

"You were asleep for several hours," Jack informs her. He holds a vial of liquid up to the light. "Terbutaline; I would have never found medication like this on the plane. Your contractions have stopped."

She massages her forehead, adjusting to her new surroundings. "I think I was dreaming."

Jack's glad she's awake and fully responsive. "Dreaming about being in L.A?"

"Yes; actually." She moves her pillow back and sits up in bed. "It was really weird. I was inside a church about to meet the parents who were adopting my baby, and then I woke up." Her eyes sadden as she pets the blanket over her stomach.

Jack pulls his stool closer and grabs her hand. "Claire; you don't have to give Aaron away. The papers you signed will never hold in court."

Claire nods, appreciating Jack's assurance. "I never told you why I decided to give him away, did I?"

"I figured it was because you were single," Jack answers.

"I went to see a Psychic." Claire sighs deeply as she relives the moment in her past. "He first told me it was important that I raise him. Later, he told me there was a couple in Los Angeles that could adopt him."

Jack looks down at the floor with a half smirk. "Well, he was right the first time."

"Yeah," she laughs, relieved. She looks around the room looking confused. "Where's Kate?"

"She's in the room next door already asleep. And Vincent's sitting outside the hatch door standing guard." Jack looks at his watch and rubs his eyes. "It's been a long day. Maybe both of us should get some sleep."

Claire shifts her pillow beneath her head and tries to relax. "Is my baby going to be fine?"

Jack nods confidently. "I promise; tomorrow we'll be landing in LAX."

* * *

><p><em>Near the Orchid<em>

Sayid and Hurley follow the footprints for several minutes through the wintry terrain. Sayid kneels after noticing something peculiar. "There are now two sets of tracks in the snow. The second one appears to be canine."

Hurley's eyes nervously scan the frozen jungle. "Canine? Like a polar bear with canine teeth?"

"No Hurley," Sayid calmly assures. "Canine, as in a _Labrador Retriever_."

* * *

><p><em>The Staff<br>One hour later_

Claire awakens to a tickling wetness inside her ear. The air sniffs in and out, forming a deafening sound within her inner ear. Her hand flinches defensively to the side, pushing away a wet mass of cold fur. The persistent canine props his paws on to the bed and fervently licks beneath her chin.

"Vincent?" She wakes up disoriented; unsure if she's dreaming again. The familiar sound of the heartbeat monitor pulsates in the background. She pushes his paws to get him off the bed. "You're cold and wet. Where did you come from?" She pets the short hairs between his eyes. "How did you get inside?"

Vincent suddenly backs away and sits firmly as if he were commanded. Claire notices a shiny glare created from wet footprints along the terrazzo floor. She gasps in breath, paralyzed in fear. "Who's there?" she calls.

A timid teenage boy steps out of the dark corner into the light. His clothes are crafted from boar fur and hide. A leather necklace dangles a wooden Ankh at the center of his chest. His high ankle moccasins are drenched in wet snow. He removes the fur wrap covering his neck and face; his hair is blonde like Vincent's, his soft complexion is without blemish, and his eyes are beaming with blue. His voice cracks as he attempts to introduce himself.

"Hi, Mom."


	81. The Rescue of John Locke p11

x  
>x<p>

"Wake up, Jack."

Jack awakens to a fierce shaking of his shoulder.

"Wake up."

"Huh?" he grunts, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

"She's gone," Kate informs with a tremor in her voice.

"What?" Jack sits up as if he received an electric jolt.

"Claire."

Jack springs to his feet; his heart races, his chest feels as if were about to explode. "What do you mean she's gone?"

"She's not in her bed."

"Maybe she's in the bathroom." His mind resorts to denial, but he can sense the desperation in Kate's voice. He knows she's serious; he knows she's checked the bathroom and every other square inch inside the hatch. He stumbles into the next room while fitting on his shoes, still needing to see the empty bed for himself. The infant monitor is silent. The I-V tube is left hanging with plenty of fluid. The floor is wet with foot and paw prints.

He charges out of the hatch door with Kate following closely behind; the sterile smell of a clinic fades to the aroma of rainforest. Visibility is poor due to a morning mist hovering close to the ground. Jack looks in every direction, listening for sounds which could clue in Claire's location, but the jungle is eerily silent; even the insects are quiet this early in the morning.

Kate kneels and points to prints in the mud. "There's one other person with her," she detects, relieved but also puzzled there wasn't a crew of kidnappers. "Vincent's with her too." She carefully pieces together the trail and follows. Jack keeps his distance in order not to disturb her concentration, but he's quickly becoming impatient.

"Kate, we're never going to catch her."

"Jack, please; let me concentrate. I can still see the trail."

Jack steps ahead of her and looks for landmarks in the terrain. "We've been heading in the same direction for 15 minutes. I know exactly where she's going."

Kate studies the terrain for a moment. "Where?"

Jack takes off running. "Follow me."

* * *

><p><em>10 minutes later<em>

Jack slows his pace to a walk. The habitat has transitioned; the trees are thinner, the soil rocky, and the sound of falling water is just ahead of them. "We're here. Do you recognize it?"

"The caves," she answers. She scans the ground looking again for recently made tracks. "Here; footprints and Vincent's paw prints." She follows the tracks for several minutes and finds herself backtracking in circles. "The trail ends here."

"Then where is she?"

"I don't know, Jack. Let me think."

"Claire!" Jack yells, forming a megaphone with his hands. They enter the caves together, desperately searching for clues. There's something nagging Jack about the configuration of the caves; the position of boulders and crevices seems out of place and the ceiling looks slightly higher.

"The caves are different somehow," Jack says, running his hands over the rock.

"You're right," Kate agrees, tilting her head back and spinning to get a full view. "Do you think it's because we changed things?"

Jack thinks hard, shaking his head. "We changed things after 1977. The caves are more geological time."

Kate suddenly notices an obvious component missing. "The skeletons; Adam and Eve. They're gone."

"Maybe someone took them," Jack supposes.

"Or maybe things did change before 1977." They sit together on the flat stone which once served as the resting place for the two skeletons. Kate reaches for Jack's hand. "What do we do now?" she asks.

"The trail ended here; she has to be close by. I'll keep looking for her. But for now, I need you to get back to the sailboat. Tell Desmond we need more time. He's been on the Island for almost a year now; maybe he knows why they would take Claire."

Kate squeezes his hand one last time before walking off into the woods. "Find her, Jack."

* * *

><p>Desmond climbs back aboard his sailboat after going inland to gather fruit and freshwater. It's been twenty four hours since he dropped off Kate, Jack, Vincent, and Claire. He enters the cabin and hears a faint static filled voice coming through his radio; he adjusts the frequency knob to get a better signal.<p>

*_ bzzzzz…jskrjspvvvv…static_…Desmond?..._ssszzzzbzwwbz ww_…Desmond do you copy?..._bzzzwejvvvnnnnn..static_..*

Desmond spills the pieces of fruit on to the floor and grabs the handheld microphone. "Aye! Anyone there?"

*_sstatttic..bzzz…_Desmond Hume… if this is you…_bbzzzzzstatic…_ my name _bzzzssstatic…_ is Daniel Faraday…_bzzsstatic_…you need to… _bzzzisstwwerrr_… the Island will be moving soon…_bzsstaticccc_*

Desmond holds down the voice button. "I can't hear you brutha!"

"Important_cccccccbzzzaidnwerrrr_…. leave the Island now… _bzzsst…_the bearing has changed_zziefssstatic_.. I repeat.._staticcbazzz…_ follow bearing three sixteen…_bzzz.._ do you copy?"

Desmond pencils in the new bearing on his nautical chart. "Copy! Bearing 3-1-6!"

"_staticcbzzzz…._is there… _bzzzzzzzz_anyone els_zzbzzz_ with you?"

"No." Desmond looks out the cabin window, hoping his team shows soon. "I'm waiting for Jack Shepherd to come back."

"you must…._staticbzzzzz_…leave _bzzzz_ immediately_bzzzstjsfkk_…the passengers of Oceanic_ssstaticczzzzzzz…_.must remain…_bzzzz_.. on the Island_zzzzzzstatic_…*

"No! I'm not leaving them!" Desmond responds, furious.

"_Bzzstatic_….. It's very importan_zzzzzzzz…ssssss_…."

The static fades away to an empty signal. Desmond holds his breath and listens attentively for a reply, hoping to hear further instructions. Suddenly, an unexpected voice comes through the speaker; a voice his soul has longed to hear for many many months.

"Hello?" The signal is so clear it feels as if an angel is standing next to him. "Desmond? Is that you?"

"Pen?" Desmond whimpers, his heart elated.

"Desmond," she cries, sniffling. "Thank God you're alive. Are you alright?"

"I'm coming home soon, Pen. I promise," he pledges with all of his heart, choking back tears.

"I know you are. But you have to leave them, Des; the passengers of Oceanic must remain on the Island," she replies.

"No, they'll be back on the boat any minute. One of them is pregnant."

"Listen, my father has another plan to save them."

An awkward pause in radio silence as Desmond struggles to comprehend. "Your father?"

"I need you to trust him," she pleads.

* * *

><p>Kate arrives at an empty boat dock; the rope which secured Desmond's sailboat is left hanging on the pylon unfastened. She shields her eyes and looks out to the horizon; the sailboat is but a speck in the distance, her sails inflated fully, its course directing it away from both the main Island and Hydra. <em>Why would he leave us?<em> she thinks, feeling more confused than angry.

She hears the wooden planks behind her rumble with footsteps. A group of Others approaches with their rifles raised. She recognizes the man at the center as the man who once kidnapped Charlie and Claire.

"Where is she?" Kate demands, unafraid.

Ethan lowers his rifle. "She left willingly, with somebody else."

"Who?"

"You'll meet him very soon." He tosses a puffy winter jacket at her.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks, confused.

"Some place very cold."


	82. The Rescue of John Locke p12

_x  
>x<br>_

_I hope you're right, Benjamin.  
><em>_Because if you aren't, and it's the Island that wants her dead, she'll be dead.  
><em>_And one day, you'll be standing where I'm standing now. You'll be the one being banished,  
><em>_and then you'll finally realize that you cannot fight the inevitable._

_-Charles Widmore_

* * *

><p>Ben Linus knew his reintroduction to the Island wouldn't be easy. Unlike the original passengers of Oceanic, it wasn't required of him to come back. He could have stayed in Los Angeles in the quiet comforts of his suburban home. This time around, he chose a good life for himself. His education includes a Ph.D. in European history from the University of California. He excelled in academia as a professor, then later in life decided to teach in public schools. His name is Dr. Linus; high school history teacher, scholar, mentor, upstanding citizen of the Los Angeles community.<p>

Although he's the opposite of his villain Island counterpart, his childhood was still spent growing up on the Island. Everything that happened before the Incident, _still happened_. His mother died during childbirth. He was brought to the Island when his father Roger took a job as a workman with the Dharma Initiative. In 1977, a man named Sayid Jarrah shot him point blank in the gut before fleeing into the jungle. Dr. Juliet Burke tried everything to stabilize him, but her efforts were failing. The only option was to bring him to Richard Alpert in hopes he would spare his life by immersing the wound in temple waters. Thankfully he did, and young Benjamin survived the encounter. Several days later, there was an Incident at the Swan site. Ben and his father were evacuated by submarine with the rest of the Dharma Initiative and went on to live their lives back in the states, never to hear of the Island again.

That is, _until 2004_.

It was the year he came to know Alex Rousseau. In class and during morning study sessions they quickly developed a strong friendship. She became the daughter he wish he had; and for Alex, losing her dad at a young age, Dr. Linus filled the void of fatherhood.

Unfortunately, tragedy struck midway through the school year; Alex suddenly fell ill with a disease the doctors had trouble diagnosing. Ben would often stay in the hospital by her side. One night, in her weakened state, she shared with him a vivid dream she had of being in danger on a mysterious Island. He reached for her hand to comfort her, and immediately upon contact became fully aware of their shared connection in another life. The moment was like a rush of adrenaline to his soul. In a matter of seconds, he could fully recall the joys of raising her and the pain of losing her. It was an awakening that would change the direction of his life. Armed with the knowledge of the Island's existence, he could no longer be Dr. Linus; he was now a combination of both Bens, a hybrid of sorts with memories reaching back into both lives.

The life he was living in Los Angeles suddenly seemed dull and unadventurous; full of accomplishments, but lacking risk. His awakening flipped a switch in his mind to aspirations of power, the kind he once had when leading on the Island. The temptation to leave everything behind in search of the Island was overwhelming. His first step was to investigate the Dharma Initiative to find out if it was still in existence; that's when he discovered its Michigan headquarters, the controversial research of Gerald Degroot, and connections with English financier Charles Widmore.

Alex's deteriorating condition over the next several days sealed his decision to get on board Oceanic 815. He lost her once before; he couldn't bare losing her again. There's nothing he can do to save her in Los Angeles. But if her vision of being in danger on the Island was real, he was willing to go there to save her.

* * *

><p><em>September 22, 2004<em>

Oceanic 815 slows to a halt at the end of Hydra runway. Ben presses his forehead against the cabin window and looks into the jungle beyond the settling dust. He can already sense the impending danger. The shadows between the trees darken like blinds closing over a window. One by one, slowly and stealthily, the hostiles emerge from the bushes. They encircle the plane and push a wooden platform up to the passenger entry door.

Ben turns his head from the window after Jack scuffles with Sawyer to open the door. "Jack's right," Ben interrupts, his eyes bulging as if his head were inflating. "The only way Locke can enter the plane is through that door. You have one other means of security; the door to the cockpit is bulletproof. The two people that should be in there are the pilot and your sister; save her and you save two people."

Jack nods, still breathing hard. He motions to Claire. She walks the aisle and enters the cockpit.

Lapidus gives final instructions before shutting the cockpit door. "If anything crazy happens, you make sure you secure the door to the plane so I can turn around and takeoff."

Jack grabs the red handle. Sayid stands guard at the door in case of a sudden attack. Everyone else takes a window seat to watch what unfolds. The crowd of Others have the plane surrounded but stand at a nonthreatening distance. The guards are poised with rifles pointed at Locke's head. Jack rotates the handle and swings the door open. The crowd hushes to complete silence; he stands quietly on the platform edge waiting for a response.

"We know you've come to rescue John Locke," shouts one of the guards. "We request a prisoner exchange; John's life for one of yours."

Jack's eyes glaze with tears as he steps forward to pay the ultimate price. He feels Kate staring at him through the window; he turns and finds her face behind the foggy glass. "Take me," he says, without reluctance.

Whispers can be heard throughout the crowd. The guards discuss the exchange amongst themselves; one of them pulls a Polaroid picture to identify the prisoner they're seeking.

Ben Linus steps out on to the platform with his hands raised. "They don't want you Jack. They want me."

The crowd grows louder as they recognize his face; jeering Ben, pointing fingers and pumping fists. He descends the platform and offers his hands to the guards to be handcuffed. "Take me to your leader," he says, drooping his head in defeat.

* * *

><p><em>The Temple<br>6 hours later_

The temple guard strikes Ben in the side with the back end of the rifle. His muscles go limp from the shock of impact. He falls to his chest and quickly inhales to regain his breath; the dust stirring from the ground sticks to the back of his throat, making it difficult to breathe. The crowd encircles, cursing and spitting on him. He pushes up with his elbows into a kneeling position, lacking the strength to stand. He opens his eyes and sees symbols of an ancient religion carved all along the foundation of the temple. He glances upward; the steep incline of the monument's side converges into a point at the top with the sun resting in the sky directly above. The temple's shape is similar to a Mayan pyramid; the stone is terraced at seven levels with a center dividing stairway leading all the way to the top.

The crowd jeers as Dogen's assistant Lennon lunges forward and holds a knife to Ben's neck. "This man is the reason Jacob is no longer with us!"

"Traitor!" a woman calls out.

"Kill him!" yells a teenage boy.

The crowd erupts in anger; many of them picking up rocks to stone him.

"Silence!" Master Dogen commands, perched high above the crowd on the pyramid steps. He's small in stature, but his voice projects mightily. The commotion of the crowd ceases; one by one, they drop their stones back into the sand. He descends the pyramid to the bottom; his face stern and lacking emotion. Lennon hands Dogen the sacrificial knife, hoping his teacher avenges the death of the man the temple was built to honor.

Dogen raises the knife and looks out to the crowd. "Behold! The man who murdered Jacob!" He clutches the handle with both hands, pointing the blade downward like he were sacrificing a lamb. His muscles quiver in perfect tension; after several tense seconds, he exhales a long held breath and calmly lowers the knife.

"Master, what are you doing?" Lennon asks with a whiny voice. The people begin whispering to one another.

Dogen slices the ropes binding Ben's wrists together. "The blade once used to murder Jacob is now the blade that set you free."

Ben rises to his feet, relieved to be spared judgment; his eyes bulging like plastic googly eyes.

Dogen tucks the blade into a sheath on his belt. "Why are you here?"

"I came to warn you." Ben massages the raw skin of his wrist caused by friction from the tightened rope. He reaches in his pocket and reveals a wallet size photo of Alex Rousseau. "Several days ago, a student of mine shared with me a vision she had of the Island. She said a man named Charles Widmore is sending a submarine full of soldiers to capture the Island and kill everyone in the temple."

Dogen examines the photo of Alex with sadness in his eyes. "Did this man, Widmore, also kill someone you loved?"

Ben nods, confused by his response. "Yes."

Dogen mutters a command in Japanese to a temple guard holding a sniper rifle. "There are two paths before you. One; a path of vengeance," Dogen pauses and signals to the guard; the guard offers Ben the sniper rifle. "The other; a path of sacrifice." Dogen removes the knife from his belt and offers it to Ben. "Choose your path wisely and you will be with your daughter again."

Ben carefully grasps the knife from Dogen's hand and holds it up to the sunlight, admiring the blade's mirror finish. "Where is she?"

Dogen hands him the sheath and a warm coat for his journey. "Leave now for the Orchid. You will find what you're looking for at the bottom of the Well."

* * *

><p><em>Hydra Island<br>On board Oceanic 815_

Locke rattles the dice within the black leather cup and tosses them across the felt covered game box. They settle side by side into a double six, giving him the exact digits needed to win. "Yes!" he celebrates, moving his backgammon chips into place.

Lapidus rolls his eyes and leans back in his cushy captain's chair. "Lucky bastard," he replies, nonchalantly. He's not as enthusiastic about backgammon as Locke; he figured it would be a good way to pass the time until the passengers of Oceanic return.

"Lucky?" Locke replies, slightly offended by the captain's lack of insight. The celebration turns into a teachable moment. "The mind's eye," Locke instructs, tapping the rigid bone next to his eye with his finger. "It's important to see with your _mind's eye_. I saw the double six before I rolled it. I only won because I saw myself winning."

Lapidus flails his hands up as a gesture of giving up. "OK; enough of your philosophical yappin' about backgammon. Why don't you use your mind's eye to see your friends gettin' back here soon so we can finally jet the hell off this Island?"

Suddenly, a static filled voice comes through the cockpit radio.

"_Bzzzzz-stttatic-bbzzzz_ Captain Lapidus_zzzzz_ do you copy?"

Lapidus stretches the headphones over his head and adjusts the microphone mouthpiece.

"Lapidus here, captain of Oceanic 8-1-5. I can barely hear you."

Lapidus squeezes the earphones tightly against his head to listen to the faint signal. Locke can only look to his expression to try to figure out what the communication is. "Bearing 3-1-6, copy that! You better have my back on this!" Lapidus responds.

He drops the headphones to around his neck and starts flipping switches in the cockpit. The overhead lighting dims as a sudden surge of power rushes through the aircraft's electronics. A low pulsating hum resonates as the turbines start rolling. He glances back to Locke to explain what's going on. "We've got to get airborne! Boss man said the Island's about to move any minute! He's going with plan B to save everyone else!"

"Boss man?" Locke asks, confused.

"Charles Widmore," Lapidus answers.

"Widmore?" Locke drops the backgammon chips to the floor of the cockpit and frantically exits. "Now you wait just a minute. All of us came here together; this time, we're leaving together." Locke rotates the red handle to passenger entry; an alarm sounds in the cockpit signaling the door is open. "I'm going to get my friends whether Widmore likes it or not!"

"Locke! Don't leave!" Lapidus unbuckles from the cockpit chair and pleads with him not to go. "You can't venture out to the Island on your own, remember? You said it yourself; _I'm too old, I'll only slow you down._"

Locke turns to Lapidus with a penetrating stare; the anger beneath simmering from inside his soul. A gust of wind shoots through the open door, whipping Locke's long wispy hair like he were Moses standing on the shore of the Red Sea. "Don't tell me what I can't do."

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, at the Orchid Well<em>

Hurley, Sayid, Jin, and Sawyer are forced to kneel into the snowy ground with their hands tied behind their backs. A group of armed hostiles captured them; Sayid and Hurley while following Vincent's tracks; Jin and Sawyer at the snow's edge waiting for their return.

Sayid studies the terrain and the position of each of the hostiles. He leans his back against the Well entrance and slyly loosens the ropes restraining his hands. "What do you plan on doing to us?" he asks one of the hostiles, hoping to earn their trust.

"The wheel needs to be turned five more times," the hostile explains, looking down the well shaft.

"Why us? Why not turn the wheel yourself?" Sayid asks, keeping his tone polite.

The young hostile shrugs his shoulder; it appears he's only following orders. "It has to be turned by passengers of 815. John Locke was the first. Now, five more of you need to do it."

Sayid leans forward to make eye contact with his captor. "What you're doing is very foolish. You do know turning the mechanism could kill us all, do you not?"

The hostile again shrugs his shoulder, looking clueless. "The boss man said it would work."

Sayid suddenly pushes with his knees and hops to his feet; the ropes binding his hands fall to the ground. Several hostiles quickly cock and aim their rifles to keep him under control. He grabs a fist full of snow and holds it high in the air.

"The crystals in my hand are not snow." Sayid squeezes the frosty powder into a snowball and drops it to the ground; it was never his intent to escape, only to get everyone's attention. "It is frost created from cooling beneath our feet. When the wheel is dormant, it stores potential energy which cools the surrounding rock. But when it is turned, it releases the energy stored and moves the Island through time. The longer you wait, the further back the Island moves. Prior to the last Island movement, the frost was confined to the chamber. I was told the Island moved as far back to when the giant statue was still standing on the beach. Judging from the ruins, I suppose that was at least one millennium ago."

Sawyer's eyes widen as he follows Sayid's logic. "How far you think we're going back?"

"Far," Sayid answers. "Quite possibly to a time preceding the wheel mechanism being built."

Hurley falls headfirst into the frost; his knees were getting so cold, he could no longer hold his balance. He rolls on to his side and spits out the frost so he can talk. "Dude, your plan's never gonna happen man. Locke's coming to our rescue."

The trees rustle ahead of them; Kate suddenly appears with several armed hostiles escorting her. The hostile next to the Well unwinds the rope around the crank to prepare for descent.

"Ladies first."

* * *

><p><em>Back on board Oceanic 815<em>

"Don't tell me what I can't do." Locke pushes the door wider to leave.

"I'm sorry John," Lapidus warns, holding a pistol.

Locke turns and raises his hands. "What are you doing?"

"The objective was never to ensure everyone's safety."

Locke lowers his hands. "Then what was the objective?"

Lapidus pulls the trigger; a tranquilizing dart pierces Locke's chest. He tumbles back inside the aircraft and begins to lose consciousness.

"To rescue John Locke."

* * *

><p><strong>Dear Readers, I know it's been a long time again, please forgive me, I'm hoping you're still out there! Next chapter should be the conclusion of The Rescue of John Locke, then on to the next series! -bobt<strong>


	83. The Rescue of John Locke p13

x  
>x<p>

"_If I take him, he's never going  
><em>_to be the same again.  
><em>_He'll forget this ever happened  
><em>_and his innocence will be gone.  
><em>_He will always be one of us."_

_-Richard Alpert_

* * *

><p><em>1977<em>

Young Ben Linus suddenly awakens floating in a pool of water. The surface around him fizzes like seltzer. The skin of his back tingles from tiny bubbles racing along his body. The sensation is as soothing as a warm bath with Epson salt. The bubbly water penetrates the gunshot wound to his abdomen, creating a red ooze leaking from his side and darkening the waters. A mysterious man standing next to him keeps him safely afloat; his eyes are piercing dark and has smooth coffee colored skin. Ben recognizes him as the man he encountered in the woods several years ago while chasing a vision of his mother.

"Richard?" Ben whispers, squinting with fogged up glasses. "What happened to me?"

"You were shot but you're going to be OK, Benjamin," he consoles with a warm smile, balancing Ben's head just above the water. "Now take a deep breath."

Young Ben nods and inflates his cheeks like a blowfish. Richard pinches Ben's nose and baptizes him beneath the waters.

* * *

><p><em>2004<em>

Ben raises his binoculars eye level and spots a patch of snow in the distance. He nibbles a cracker to soothe the hunger he developed during his hike to the Orchid. A cool breeze rustles the trees and chills the tips of his ears. The climate is different but he recognizes the terrain all around him. Memories of growing up here begin to resurface. He's been down this same trail many times before. When he was a child, he would often do anything he could to get away from his drunk father; finding places to hide where he could never be found; places only the Dharma elite knew about. Even as a kid he was shrewd and cunning; he knew the timing of security cameras and the codes to get in and out of the perimeter fence. He would often sneak into the jungle and follow Dharma work vans to different hatches. Swan, Arrow, Orchid, Hydra, Flame, Looking Glass; he knew them all. The hike to the Orchid was especially long so he set up a rest station halfway along the trail; a metal box beneath a boulder containing crackers to munch on, binoculars to keep a look out, and a small mirror to communicate with the hostiles.

Ben continues his hike toward the blanket of white, knowing that at its center lies the source and perhaps the key to saving Alex. The temperature plummets as he descends the valley. He conserves heat by buttoning his coat all the way up the collar and burying his hands within his pockets. He finds an unobstructed view of the Orchid through the leafless branches of frozen trees. He leans against a boulder then raises his binoculars again to look for activity. He spots the hostiles dressed warmly in coats, most of them armed with rifles slung across their backs. On the ground kneeling next to the Well are the passengers of Oceanic taken as hostages; Hurley, Sayid, Jin, Sawyer.

He packs away the binoculars then pulls Dogen's knife from his sheath. "Perhaps I should have chosen the gun," he mutters to himself.

* * *

><p>"Richard!" Ben screams with his hands up in surrender, walking swiftly toward the Well. "Richard Alpert!"<p>

The Hostiles immediately turn and raise their rifles. The four Oceanic passengers look up, bewildered and helpless; mummed by bandanas fastened over their mouths. The Well rope sways erratically from Kate making her way down.

"Don't shoot," Ben pleads, scanning their faces; hoping to recognize them. He waited in the frozen jungle for half an hour observing from a distance, realizing there's nothing he could do except trust they would sympathize with his cause. "I want to speak with Richard Alpert."

His childhood friend, Ethan Romme, steps forward from the group. "Why did you come back?"

Ben is relieved to see him. "Twenty seven years ago Richard brought me inside the temple and saved my life. I'm hoping now he'll save my daughter."

"Richard's gone. He left the Island to search for Jacob," Ethan explains, lowering his rifle.

"Jacob?" Ethan's response agitates Ben; he looks away, fidgeting the knife inside the sheath. He's annoyed by the legend of a man he followed blindly, something he vows never to do again. "Tell me; which one of you has ever seen the almighty Jacob?"

The hostiles glance at one another confused, some shaking their heads. They're embarrassed to admit they follow the teachings of a man who's never shown his face.

Ben removes Dogen's knife from the sheath and raises it in the air. "I just came from the temple where your people wanted to crucify me for murdering him. But the truth is; Jacob was simply a man like you and I, and he died a long time ago." Ben throws down the knife; it penetrates the frozen soil with the handle sticking straight up. "Richard's still chasing ghosts."

"What do you mean, chasing ghosts?" Ethan asks, confused.

"You know exactly what I mean," Ben snaps back. Now that he has everyone's attention, he seizes the moment to take command by belittling Ethan in front of his peers.

"You were there with me Ethan."

"Where?"

Ben's eyes widen and stop blinking. "Here; on the Island. The place you and I played when we were children. The cabin in the woods your father built."

Ethan raises his rifle, feeling threatened. "What exactly _do you_ remember?"

"There were whispers. Then suddenly, a shadowy figure appeared in the corner. The next thing I remember is little Ethan running like mad out of the cabin to go tell Richard."

"So?" Ethan responds, shrugging his shoulders. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Whatever that thing was, it was harmless. It could have been our own little secret. But no, Richard had to make a big deal about it. He encircled the perimeter with ash and from then on only he was allowed to visit it. It probably never appeared to anyone again, we'll never know; Richard would never admit to it. Because to him, that thing we saw _was_ Jacob."

The swaying rope hanging down the Well suddenly goes still. "I'm at the bottom!" Kate's voice echoes from the icy deep.

Ben leans over the Well in desperation. "Don't turn it Kate or you'll kill us all!"

Ethan grabs Ben by the collar and throws him to the ground. "No, she's saving us all! Including Jacob!" Ben squirms across the ground as Ethan shoves the rifle muzzle into his chest. "Including Alex!"

"Alex?" Ben stops struggling at the mention of his daughter. "Where is she?"

Ethan relaxes the pressure of the muzzle. "Alex saw it too, Ben; the man in the cabin. He appeared to her and she believed every word he said; and so do I. She released him by unearthing this Well. You murdered Jacob and you murdered John Locke; but I can assure you, this man you will never be able to harm."

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere over the South Pacific<em>

John Locke slowly awakens from his tranquilized slumber; the rhythmic sound of jet engines hum in the background. He sees the lighted controls of the cockpit glowing in front of him. It's nighttime and the only light outside the plane is the moon's dim reflection off the waters thirty thousand feet below. The cushioned chair he's in is as comfortable as a leather recliner. He tries leaning forward but the tension of the seat belt restricts his movement. He looks left and sees Captain Lapidus at the controls.

"Now take it easy, tiger," Lapidus remarks, keeping his eyes steady and faced forward. "If you need to walk about the cabin, feel free to do so."

Locke rubs the sore spot on his chest where the tranquilizer dart pierced him. "You shot me?"

"Sorry, but I knew you wouldn't come easy. Had to make sure I knocked you out. Good thing I'm not Linus, huh? I heard he strangled you to make sure you came along."

Locke massages his temples to soothe the tranquilizer hangover. "Why did we leave the Island?"

"Look John, you've done enough. You've been away for 27 years. It's time for your friends to do their part. But one thing I've got to know is that you have my back, OK? I hijacked this plane to get your friends to the Island and rescue your ass, alright? No tellin' what everyone's going to think of this story if I'm the only one telling it, but if you say it too then at least there's two of us crazies they'll throw in the looney bin."

Locke looks to the dark horizon ahead of them. "Are we landing in LAX?"

Lapidus shakes his head and taps the fuel gauge with his finger. "Burned way too much fuel taking off. I'm landing this bird within the next hour." He points to a dim glow barely noticeable on the horizon. "There she is."

Locke squints and notices the glow coming from a remote Island. "Where are we going?"

"Keep your seatbelts fastened cause we're goin' to Guam!"

* * *

><p><strong>Hey Everybody! I know it's been a while! I've been doing a Lost rewatch..hope some of you are still around! -bobt<strong>


	84. The Rescue of John Locke p14

x  
>x<p>

**-Part 14-  
><strong>**The Rescue of John Locke**

The glow of electricity on the horizon grows brighter as Oceanic 815 approaches its new destination. Even at night, details of an urban landscape are distinguishable from one another; buildings, roads, cars, bridges; signs of civilization Locke hasn't seen for decades. Within two hours they have reached the shores of Guam; ironically, another Island in the Pacific close to the sacred Island itself, at least temporarily close for an Island always in motion.

Lapidus extends the wing flaps to slow for descent. He's relieved the rescue mission is finally coming to a close. The plan was simple but risky; hijack 815, follow a 325 bearing and land on Hydra runway, rescue John Locke, and leave the Island _using the same 325 bearing_. Everything changed when Desmond Hume came running out of the jungle and persuaded the group to get to the Orchid or Claire's baby would die. But they didn't realize that taking time to save Aaron was endangering the possibility of ever leaving. The window to the Island was closing quickly and the exit bearing was shifting. Without time to think, Lapidus followed his new orders to leave immediately at a new heading 316 with John Locke as his only passenger. Fortunately, Faraday's calculation of the new bearing proved to be correct, otherwise they'd still be flying in circles.

Lapidus steers the aircraft toward the lighted airstrip in the distance. He radios the tower for permission to land and finds out it was unnecessary; the U.S. military is already expecting their arrival and has emergency personnel on the ground ready to assist.

"Maybe they've got a party for us when we land," Lapidus says half-jokingly, glancing in Locke's direction.

Still too upset to talk, Locke crosses his arms and rotates his co-pilot chair away from Lapidus. The only party he ever wanted was one with his Oceanic friends. He devoted the last twenty seven years of his life to building Hydra runway. He believed wholeheartedly his friends would come back for him, and on September 22nd 2004 his wish came true. Unfortunately, the reunion was cut short and his friends are once again _Lost_ on the Island. Locke would do anything to go back. Even now, suicidal tendencies enter his mind; it's the same struggle Jack had while living in L.A., the burden of not knowing what happened is too much for any man to bear. Even more difficult to imagine is his friends thinking he didn't leave, assuming that he stayed behind on Hydra when the plane took off. Jack, Hurley, Kate, Sawyer, Sayid, Jin, Claire; probably trapped by hostiles at the Orchid, hoping any moment Locke would come out of the jungle to their rescue.

Locke stares blankly out the cockpit window with sadness in his eyes. He has survived, yet failed. His career as Island leader began with a bang and ended with a fizzle. From the beginning there were immense expectations upon him; his arrival to the Island was prophesied for centuries. Carvings of Locke were all along the temple walls and tunnels. Richard Alpert groomed him; teaching him Latin and the ways of Jacob. But Locke was ultimately too obsessed with building Hydra runway, something he had trouble recruiting the temple dwellers for. The arrival of the French team brought the workers he needed to complete the task. In the end, there were two divided camps with Locke being captured. After all he sacrificed for the Island, in the end his only value was as a bargaining chip to exchange for Benjamin Linus.

The plane's landing gear taps upon concrete smoother than a new highway. Tires spin effortlessly like a skate board rolling across a roller rink. As the aircraft transfers its full weight into the ground, a sensation of weightlessness occurs, followed by heaviness, like an elevator ride finally reaching the bottom floor. Truth is; Lapidus could do this landing blindfolded. The runway at Anderson Air Force base is so long it could probably handle the landing of the space shuttle. He applies the airbrakes only momentarily so he can use the momentum to roll the aircraft into position. A military helicopter swoops overhead and aims a spotlight into the cockpit. Lights from ambulances and fire trucks race down the runway and surround the plane. A boarding platform vehicle parks beneath the exit door and extends its steps.

Lapidus looks back to Locke before turning the red handle. "Promise me you got my back."

Locke's lips slowly form a devious smirk. "Charles Widmore pulled the strings to get you into this mess; I'm sure he'll pull the strings to get you out."

Lapidus turns the handle and swings the door open. Spotlights shine from every direction and instantly blind them. An array of red laser dots cluster together in the center of Lapidus's chest.

"Keep your hands up!" commands a soldier at the bottom of the steps.

Elite soldiers drop down like ninjas from the top of the aircraft and handcuff Locke and Lapidus.

"Captain Frank Lapidus, you're under arrest for the hijacking of Oceanic 815!"

* * *

><p><em>General's quarters<br>__Anderson Air Force base_

They're forcibly marched down a long narrow corridor, their hands and feet shackled like prisoners of war. Lapidus can feel the pistol nuzzled into his back by the escorting soldier. He turns and speaks calmly. "Easy there, soldier. We look like we're going anywhere to you?" He hasn't seen this kind of action since his time flying helicopters in the Persian Gulf War, except this time he's the bad guy. Volunteering as pilot for this mission was a sacrifice he was willing to take; it wasn't about money or honor. Matthew Abaddon explained to him that his present life was only a result of what happened on an island in another time and dimension. So like John Locke, he was willing to give up everything he had to get back to the Island and assure his own destiny; to find his life, he had to lose it. His career, the booze, the friendships he had; all gone. But none of it would ever compare to the Island friends he would once again be reunited with.

Lapidus sees a light at the end of the hallway emanating from a door with a tiny rectangular glass view; probably a room used for interrogation or water torture, he figures. He considers his present circumstances and realizes landing a hijacked passenger plane at a secure military facility probably wasn't the best idea. Maybe he had enough fuel to make it to Hawaii and land at a civilian airport. He was certainly looking forward to some kind of coming home party; not the kind of press conference the Oceanic 6 received, but perhaps a little Honolulu luau for the Oceanic 2. Anything but the situation he and Locke are in now; surrounded by armed soldiers with nowhere to escape. Even staying behind on the Island and taking his chances with the hostiles sounds better. Lapidus has a sudden moment of realization; _Desmond's boat_. There actually was another way to leave this entire time, he just didn't give it any thought. Sure, sailing across the Pacific would have been a longer ride, but secretly arriving at the marina in Long Beach California would have been the better option for sure.

Locke and Lapidus are uncuffed by the soldiers and left inside the interrogation room at the end of the hall. A security camera mounted in the room corner slowly pans in their direction. On the wall is an observation mirror stretching the length of the room, its reflection dull like a cheap pair of reflective sunglasses. The lights from the ceiling blind their view of a mysterious long haired man sitting at the end of the table. The man leans back in his chair and swigs a glass of whisky.

Locke massages the skin of his wrists rubbed raw by the handcuffs. "Let me guess. Are you our attorney?"

The man parts his long sweaty hair away from his face and chuckles in a drunken voice. "Aye, brutha."

Locke's heart skips a beat as he recognizes the signature Scottish call. "Desmond?"

Lapidus squeezes between the chairs and wall to get a closer look. "Desmond? How the hell did you get here?" He notices Desmond's shirt is bulging with bloodied bandages across his abdomen. "What the hell happened to you?"

"My Elizabeth is gone." Desmond slides the whiskey glass aside and drinks straight from the Macutcheon bottle. "I lost her. My precious sailboat."

Lapidus still can't believe his eyes that Desmond Hume is sitting in the same room. "Let me get this straight. I flew from Hydra to here in less than 2 hours. I saw your sailboat leaving the same time using the same bearing. So unless you strapped a jet engine to your boat, there's no possible way you got to Guam before us!"

The security door next to the mirrored glass opens; Sawyer struts into the room wearing a full police uniform complete with a bullet proof vest. "That's because it took you a hell of a lot longer than two hours to get here," he says.

Locke stumbles backward and grabs his chest as if he were having a heart attack. "James?"

Sawyer proudly flashes his officer badge; the interrogation room now seems complete with a cop in the room. "Detective James Lafluer, LAPD. Here to help you boys cross back over to the states. But in order to do that, you need new identities." Sawyer slides fresh passports across the table. "Yours was a little too easy, Jeremy."

"Jeremy?" Locke opens and sees his portrait along with the name Jeremy Bentham. It's difficult to hide the disappointment on his face. "Not again."

Lapidus looks over his new passport, stunned speechless. "Pete Mitchell?"

"You know; Cruise from Top Gun? The Maverick?" Sawyer chuckles. "Thought you'd like it."

Locke glances at the security camera mounted in the room corner, full of suspicion. "We have to lie about everything all over again? But I thought Widmore was already in charge?"

The hallway door unlocks; Charles Widmore steps into the room. "Gentlemen. Good Evening." He casually straightens his tie while looking into the mirrored glass. He then places the stopper into the Macutcheon bottle and slides it away from Desmond. "We have all come a long way, but it isn't time to celebrate. Not yet."

Desmond drinks the last droplet from his whiskey glass then immediately passes out, his head hitting the table with a thud.

Locke crumples his passport and tosses it to the ground. "But it is time for answers, starting with; why was it so important for you to rescue me?"

Widmore reaches inside his coat pocket and reveals Daniel Faraday's leather bound journal. "Everything I know is in here. Who left, who stays, and when Oceanic 815 would return is all contained within this journal. You may find this difficult to believe, but your journey from the Island to Guam took much longer than two hours."

Lapidus leans back in his chair and cocks an eyebrow. "How long were we out there?"

Widmore points to a hand written date within the journal. "Today is January 24th, 2005. Oceanic 815 has been missing for over four months."

Lapidus exchanges a quizzical look with everyone in the room. "That's impossible; I landed on Hydra two days ago. We took off from Sydney September 22nd." He looks to Sawyer, needing more clues to piece the time travel mystery together. "And when did you get here? Is everyone else here?"

"So far I'm the only one." Sawyer sighs while looking Locke straight in the eyes, preparing himself to be the bearer of bad news. "Jack, Kate, Hurley, Sayid, Claire; the only way any of them are getting home is if they move the Island." Sawyer glances at the security camera, unsure if his own travels are supposed to be kept secret. "I got here way before you did because I hitched a ride on a Navy submarine. Not because the sub's faster; it has something to do with traveling beneath the water. Dharma Initiative knew all about this, that's why they never used planes. For some reason time gets trickier when you fly."

Widmore opens the physics journal and places it on the table for everyone to see; a myriad of hand written physics diagrams and equations fills the pages. "My son Daniel Faraday flew test missiles to the Island to measure this phenomena. If he were here, he would do a much better job of explaining to you that time is relative, especially for objects travelling to and from the Island. Unfortunately, in order for Oceanic 815 to safely return, it was imperative he go to the Island and die."

Locke scans several pages of the physics journal, unable to comprehend any of Faraday's scientific jargon. "But if he died on the Island, how did you find his journal?"

Widmore places a photo of Christian Shepherd down on the table. "This man somehow has a very unique connection to the Island. His name is Christian Shepherd. He was the one who gave me my son's journal."

Locke studies the photo, remembering like it was yesterday the man he met at the cabin before saving the island.

"Do you know him?" Widmore asks.

Locke casually slides the photo across the table as if he's revealing the winning card in his hand. "There's something you need to see in the luggage compartment."


	85. The Rescue of John Locke p15

_x  
>x<em>

_"They gathered proof that the Island existed.  
>They knew it was out there somewhere, but they just couldn't find it.<br>Then a very clever fellow built this pendulum on the theoretical notion  
>that they should stop looking for where the island was supposed to be<br>and start looking for where it was going to be."  
>-Eloise Hawking<em>

* * *

><p>The inequities of Charles Widmore's past are finally catching up with him. Years before the Incident when he was a much younger man, he would come and go from the Island as he pleased, even having a child with another woman. His hostile companions warned him that his conduct was <em>against the rules<em>, and that eventually he would pay the price. But young Charles was full of greed, seeing so much opportunity in the world as he built his business empire; while at the same time, as the appointed leader of the hostiles, claimed the Island's resources all to himself. He was a ruthless businessman, devouring competitors by buying them out and absorbing market share. His success was so consuming that he often forgot about his responsibilities on the Island, choosing instead to delegate leadership to younger members of the tribe.

Eloise Hawking began to question his loyalty during his long absences. She soon caught news of his affair and love child; afterward she vowed never to speak to him again and that their son Daniel, who was still yet to be born, would be raised by her alone. The feeling of abandonment was overwhelming. She and Charles have been together ever since they were young recruits of Richard Alpert. At the same time her personal life is falling to shambles, she pulls the trigger on a twenty seven year old version of her son who came strolling into their camp waving a pistol around. And just when it seemed things couldn't get any worse, the Incident happens; both Dharma and the hostiles are forced to flee the Island. Eloise moves back to England and gives birth to Daniel, and leads a more subdued life for several years.

Eloise's objective was to raise Daniel as an entirely different man to avoid his fate on the Island. Substitute one genius for another; replace the scientist with the musician. But Widmore's plan was completely opposite of that; his first priority was finding the Island and Daniel the scientist was his only key. During Daniel's three year stay in the 1970's, he designed the Lamp Post station; a Dharma station which could theoretically locate the Island. He was the only scientist in the Initiative who proposed the idea of finding the Island based upon where it will be, not where it is.

Widmore tracked down Eloise and begged for her forgiveness. He made it clear he wanted to be involved in Daniel's life, but that changing his path could have grave consequences. He argued that Daniel's best chance of surviving was to continue his path to the Island; perhaps he would go there, armed with the foreknowledge of his fate and simply change the way he walked into their camp that day. But even more important than his own life, Daniel the scientist saved many other lives on the Island by leaving instructions for the bomb; he warned the hostiles in 1954 to bury it, then left instructions on how to detonate it at the Swan drill site. Daniel's fate is likely sealed on the Island; but without him, his journal, and the bomb; the Island would certainly be doomed.

Eloise could sense Charles benefiting from Daniel's death and vowed to have no part of it. She burned the journal she took from Daniel's dying hands to prevent it from ever being used. _What good is saving the Island if I can't save my son?_ She realized the key to saving him was the same key that found the Island; to change the future one must somehow predict where things will be, instead of relying on where they ought to be. She stayed in contact with scientists from the Initiative, hoping they could find a solution to a glimpse into the future. The answer was in England this entire time; a young psychiatric patient named Theresa Spencer who knew all about the Island despite never being there. And just like the Lamp Post finding the window to the Island's location, Theresa's abilities provide the window of communication to people on the Island past and future.

* * *

><p><em>January 24<em>_th__, 2004  
>General's Quarters<br>Anderson Air Force Base, Guam_

"There's something you need to see in the luggage compartment," Locke says, sliding the photo of Christian across the table.

"What is it?" Widmore snarls, forming the massive signature dimple between his eyes.

Locke twirls the photo of Christian between his fingertips while forming a devious smirk. "I'd rather not ruin the surprise for you, Charles. But please, take a look for your own amusement; it's a very peculiar piece of luggage."

"Very well," Widmore nods, annoyed. He doesn't enjoy playing mind games unless he's the one withholding information. He reaches for Daniel's journal and tries to leave the room.

Locke slides the journal back to himself and opens it, annoying Widmore even more. "Did you ever warn him, Charles?"

"Warn who?" Charles asks.

"Daniel Faraday, that if he came to the Island he would die?"

After a moment of pause, Widmore gives a subtle shake of his head. "It wouldn't have changed things even if I did."

"I remember dying, Charles." Locke closes the journal and slips it back into Widmore's hands. "I gasped for my final breath as Benjamin Linus strangled a cord around my neck. There was nothing but darkness and silence. But then, a sliver of light grew brighter and brighter as the coffin I was placed in was being unlatched. The door was lifted and my nostrils filled with the familiar humid air of the Island."

"Why are you telling me this?" Widmore snaps, hoping Locke makes his point quickly.

Locke raises the photo of Christian Shepherd. "Christian; the same person who gave you Daniel's journal, he was the one standing over me when my casket opened. He rescued me from the grave; perhaps he'll do the same for your son."

Widmore's stern expression softens; there's a small part of him that desires to believe in miracles, but in his heart he's a realist, the same instincts that make him an excellent businessman. He realizes it's always best to accept the truth, cut your losses, and move on quickly. "Daniel's mother once believed she could change fate by raising him as a different man; that somehow he would avoid the bullet she fired into his chest. But I knew better. I realized once Daniel stepped foot on the freighter headed toward the Island, he would certainly meet death."

Locke passes the photo of Christian back to Widmore. "Well, for his mother's sake and for his own; I hope _Christian_ meets him first."

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, on the other side of Anderson Air Force Base<em>

Oceanic 815 is towed into a large hangar at the end of the runway. Widmore informed Air Force commanders of 815's arrival months ago and assured them that the two remaining passengers are harmless; however, the military is taking extra precaution. A taskforce of specialized soldiers is assembled to inspect the aircraft for drugs and weapons. The officer in charge of the operation is Lt. Colonel Steve Radzinsky, ironically the nephew of scientist Stewart Radzinsky from the Island; they share many similarities, except for his buff military physique, substituting brawn for brains.

"OK listen up people! This is war!" Colonel Radzinsky announces, climbing the steps of the boarding platform. "I want every seat cushion turned over! I want tray tables flipped! I want every crevice on this plane examined! These terrorists want to hijack our planes to bring weapons and drugs into our country, by God we're the soldiers that are going to stop them!"

"Yes sir!" several soldiers reply in unison while searching for evidence between the seats.

Suddenly, an out of breath soldier rushes on to the plane and salutes Radzinsky. "Sir, the canine unit found something in the luggage compartment. You'll want to see this."

Radzinsky follows him underneath the plane and climbs a ladder into the luggage compartment. The temperature drops sharply. The floor is blanketed with a cool white mist, swirling around their ankles as they walk toward the back. A bomb sniffing German Shepard barks at their arrival. The dog's handler restrains him and salutes the Colonel. "Sir, we need to evacuate the base immediately," he says.

Radzinsky glances at the piles of luggage around him, his eyes strain in the dim light. "Did you find a bomb?"

The canine officer shines a flashlight into the corner. Icicles hang from the ceiling like stalactites in a cave. A blanket of ice covers a coffin in a thin shell like a cocoon; the officer wipes his hand across the top of it, brushing off a layer of snowy frost. "Not just a bomb," he answers, swallowing nervously. He places a tiny electronic device on top of the coffin; a light on the device transitions from green to red followed by sounds of radioactive ticking. "A _nuclea_r bomb."

* * *

><p><em>Four months ago…<em>

Forced at gunpoint by the hostiles, Kate descends the icy Well at the Orchid station. She wraps her feet tight enough around the rope to hold on, but loose enough to descend at a safe pace. The shaft is like a frozen straw plunged into the earth; an icy esophagus swallowing both heat and light. Like crawling into a glacier crevice, irregular formations of ice surround her; the opening to the bottom becomes increasingly tighter as she makes her way down. The environment is cold and lifeless; no human being has the capacity to survive in this desolate place. Kate's breathing becomes shallow due to the lack of oxygen. She finally reaches bottom and lets go of the rope, her shoes crunch the snow covered ground on impact. She looks back up; the narrow view between the shelves of ice allows her to see a sliver of sky.

"I'm at the bottom!" she yells, hoping her voice carries to the top.

Ben Linus peaks over from ground level, his head the size of a small coin. "Don't turn it Kate or you'll kill us all!"

Kate suddenly feels a cold hand pressed over her mouth. "Shhhhhhh," a voice whispers in her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Kate ceases her struggling and the hand gently lets go. Kate turns and sees a woman standing in the shadows of the rocks. She comes forward into the light; her face is pale, her vivid eyes blue like marble. Sprinkles of ice crystals cover her hair and sparkle like shards of broken glass.

"That's him, isn't it?" she asks, motioning her eyes upward. "Ben Linus; my dad in another life."

"Alex?"

Kate recognizes Alex from their lives together on the Island before; she was adventurous, and always courageous; traits she no doubt received from her mother. She once defied her people by helping pregnant Claire escape from Ethan. Then later she helped Kate and Sawyer hide from the Others on Hydra Island. Although she lived with the Others, she was never one of them.

"Claire and her baby are safe," Alex assures her, hoping to gain her trust.

Kate's heart still pumps with adrenaline from the surprise encounter. She nervously steps backward, not sure if Alex is trustworthy. "Did you take her?"

A tear streams down Alex's cheek, somehow touched by the moment; there's so much more to share with Kate, but answering her question will only lead to more questions. "Right now, what l I need to know is; did the submarine make it to the Island?"

Kate shakes her head, confused. "What submarine?"

Alex exhales a sigh of relief. "Then there's still time. The only way to fix the mess Ben Linus created is for all of us to do our part."

"And what part is that?" Kate asks.

"I need you to move the Island."

* * *

><p><strong>Greetings readers! More to come! -bobt<strong>


	86. The Rescue of John Locke p16

x  
>x<p>

"_What if this, all of this; what if this wasn't supposed to be our life?  
><em>_What if we had some other life and for some reason, we changed things?  
><em>_I don't want to set off a nuclear bomb, Mr. Hume.  
><em>_I think I already did."_

_-Daniel Faraday_

* * *

><p><strong>1954 Bury the bomb<strong>; 1970 Dharma Initiative; 1974 Ajira passengers; 1977 The Incident; 2004 Oceanic arrival; 2005 Move the Island back in time to…

**1954 Bury the bomb**; 1970 Dharma Initiative; 1974 Ajira passengers; 1977 The Incident; 2004 Oceanic arrival; 2005 Move the Island back in time to…

**1954 Bury the bomb**; 1970 Dharma Initiative; 1974 Ajira passengers; 1977 The Incident; 2004 Oceanic arrival; 2005 Move the Island back…

Around…

And around…

And around we go…back to 1954…

The sequence of Island events after 1954 is like a continuous loop of dominoes configured on the game board of time. Some dominoes are circumstantial; each iteration of time creating minor variations of people and places but having little effect on the overall outcome. Other dominoes are consequential and must fall in exactly the same manner; two of which are crucial to saving the Island. The first domino to fall: _Daniel Faraday instructing young Eloise Hawking to bury the bomb_. Upon examination, he found a crack in the casing with a buildup of corrosion. He instructed her to seal the crack with lead and bury it as quickly as possible. And although the hostiles neglected to encase it in concrete like Faraday instructed, it turns out storing it in the tunnels was the right decision; it was hidden from Dharma yet still accessible in case they ever needed to use it again, which leads to another crucial domino to fall 23 years later: _Daniel entering the hostiles camp in 1977_. The bad news is he was shot by his mother. The good news; he carried the journal with his own mother's handwriting, which upon discovery made Eloise realize she made a huge mistake which she's desperate to reverse; desperate enough to bring Jack and Sayid to the hidden bomb with the intention of detonating it at the Swan site.

And so in 1977 The Incident…

And so in 2004 Oceanic 815 arrives…

And so in 2005 The Island moves back in time to 1954… and around and around and around we go…

* * *

><p><em>January 2005<br>__Anderson Air Force Base, Guam_

Widmore tilts his glass and swallows a mouthful of Macutcheon; his throat burns like Listerine, his veins throb from the sudden rush of liquid bliss. He's sitting inside his limousine waiting to be updated on Locke and Lapidus's release from military detainment. He jingles the ice cube in the empty glass, tempted to pour himself another. He's usually not a heavy drinker, but today he needs a steady flow of whiskey to help him cope.

For twenty seven years he knew this day would come; the return of Oceanic from the Island means Daniel Faraday's death is now unavoidable. The fifty year cycle has come full circle, setting the stage for the Island to be saved. Past events are once again set to unfold. The wheel mechanism will inevitably be turned since there is now reason to turn it, sending the Island back in time with the eventuality of Daniel meeting his mother on that fateful day in 1977. Widmore coordinated with the Dharma Initiative to rescue as many innocent lives possible by hijacking the plane and only boarding the necessary six passengers. It was a noble deed, but does nothing to lessen the guilt he now endures for knowingly sending his own son to his death.

Every man grieves in his own way no matter how reserved they are. For Charles Widmore, he prefers to be alone in a limousine with nothing but his thoughts and a bottle of whiskey. He didn't realize Daniel's death would be so difficult for him to handle. Sadly, he never knew him; ultimately he was just a pawn used to find the Island, a sacrifice for the greater good. But why should he carry the blame? Daniel had to be present in 1954 and 1977 for everything to work out right; otherwise, the outcome would not be what it is today. The most difficult task ahead for him is telling Eloise that Daniel didn't come back on the plane with John Locke. For 27 years she was hoping for a different outcome, but Charles was right all along; the Island didn't kill Daniel Faraday; _she did_.

The limousine door suddenly opens; Sawyer hops inside and slides across the leather seat, disturbing Widmore's moment of drunken self-reflection. "Good news. Locke and Lapidus are free to leave. They'll be escorted tomorrow by military cargo jet to Honolulu where they'll assume new identities. I'll take it from there. Two days from now all of us will be landing in LAX."

Widmore is slow to respond while staring blankly at the empty whisky glass in his hand. "Well done, Detective Lafluer."

Sawyer notices Widmore's quiet demeanor along with a strong odor of whisky. "What's wrong boss?"

Widmore loosens his collar while concentrating to form the right words. "Today is a day of celebration for you and your friends. But keep in mind, my son was the necessary sacrifice. Oceanic 815's arrival today was made possible only because he died in 1977."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sawyer answers coolly while reaching for a shot glass at the center table and filling it with Macutcheon. "To the mad scientist," he proposes, lifting the glass up for a toast. He cocks his head back and downs the shot, covering his mouth to keep from coughing. His eyes glaze over with tears not of sadness, but from the blast of alcohol shocking his brain. "I also lost someone in 1977," he explains, his voice a little raspy, his eyes partially squinted. He clutches his hands together then pulls them apart. "Held on to her as long as I could, but the chains pulling her down were just too much. I watched Juliet drop down a hole until I couldn't see her anymore; the same hole we dropped the bomb down; the same bomb Faraday told us to drop." Sawyer looks down and grins, forming dimples in both cheeks; he can't help but to smile each time he reminisces about Juliet. "Took so long, I wonder if she had something to do with it going off. Hell, maybe she banged it against a rock until it finally exploded."

"I'm truly sorry for your loss," Widmore responds, maintaining his serious composure.

"Don't be," Sawyer replies, losing the dimpled grin again. "Locke always believed we came to the Island for a purpose. I never took him seriously until he promised I would see Juliet again. Sounded crazy at the time, but I believed him. Then a miracle happened. I don't know how to explain it, but the Island brought her back to me. Locke was right. So if I were you, I wouldn't give up on Danny boy. Maybe everyone who died in 1977 was given a second chance."

Widmore places his empty whiskey glass in the cup holder, now wishing he was more sober so he could fully comprehend. "The peculiar piece of luggage Locke mentioned; do you know what it is?"

"I have no idea what the hell he's talking about," Sawyer shakes his head and chuckles. "It's like the man speaks in parables sometimes. But one thing's for sure; he's always right. If John Locke says you should look for a piece of luggage, look for the luggage."

Suddenly, an alarm sounds from the airstrip, growing louder like an air raid siren. Strobe lights flash all along the perimeter of the base. A soldier knocks on the window of the limousine.

"Sounds like war going on out there, chief!" Sawyer shouts while lowering the window.

"Sir, we're evacuating the base. Take your vehicle as far as you can away from here," the soldier orders.

"What the hell happened?" Sawyer asks.

"It's Oceanic 815. They found a nuclear bomb on board."

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, at the hangar…<em>

An eerie fog surrounds the hangar holding Oceanic 815. Scientists outfitted in hazmat suits cautiously enter through a quarantined entry draped with yellow tarps. Inside the hangar; a reaction of energy and matter similar to what's happening on the Island. It's the very opposite of what _should_ happen in the presence of a large energy potential. Plunging cold instead of heat. Darkness in place of light. The very absence and negation of energy. Military scientists are baffled as to exactly what _it_ is, which seems just as bizarre as the vessel containing it; a coffin, the symbol of death itself. That alone should serve as enough warning to stay away, but human curiosity is stronger than any force a nuclear device can produce. First they use sonar, then X-ray imaging to take a look inside. They confirm there's nothing in it that's organic, dead or alive; so perhaps whoever was in the coffin first has been replaced. There's lots of metal; wires for circuitry, steal for structure, and most significantly an unstable isotope beaming high energy electromagnetism. The risk they want to avert is setting off a trigger mechanism, but so far it seems completely safe. There's no timer, no switches along the seams, no visible wires from the outside. The latches are tight and untampered. It seems that whoever packaged the device in such an unusual box intended no harm.

Still reluctant to open the coffin, the military requests assistance from the outside. The Dharma Initiative responds by sending to Guam their most senior physicist Dr Pierre Chang. He's the only scientist still alive with experience on the Island. Before the Incident, he was the face of Dharma's research; most people recognize him as the Asian man in the orientation films. He was the mastermind behind every hatch and the experiments carried out within them. The unique geology of the Island provided the perfect laboratory for his research; pockets of dark matter contained within bedrock allowed Chang and his team to manipulate space and time. But after several years of scientific progress, his operation ended abruptly when a member of his team drilled into an energy pocket 30,000 times more powerful than the Orchid. At the same time of this event, the catastrophic connection of the Island's past and future is fully revealed. In the course of 24 hours, certain members of Dharma were exposed as time traveling intruders. Hugo Reyes, Jin-Su Kwan, James Lafluer, Juliet Burke, Daniel Faraday, Jack Shephard, Kate Austin, Miles Straum; all imposters from the future posing as innocent Dharma recruits, whose _true reason_ for being there is conditioned upon the very Incident happening at the Swan site. It is the same Incident which causes the button to be built, which when not activated in 2004 will bring down Oceanic 815, which leads to the wheel mechanism being turned in 2005, which will then move the Island back in time to 1954, which will once again give Daniel Faraday the opportunity to steer the dominoes in the desired direction…

* * *

><p><em>72 hours later…<em>

A bright spotlight suddenly beams down from the night sky and illuminates a landing spot on the tarmac. A violent wind disperses the fog and flattens the grass alongside the runway. A large Navy helicopter appears out of the darkness, its rotating blades sound a booming repetitive thump as it descends closer to the ground. Its wheels touch and sink inward, softening the landing of the massive craft. The engine throttles down and the chopper's side door slides open; an elderly Asian man wearing a white lab coat steps on to the tarmac. The wind from the helicopter seems to have no effect on his hair or clothing; he stands there stiff and expressionless, giving a cold determined stare at the hangar holding 815.

A uniformed officer on the ground comes forward to greet him. "Welcome to Guam, Dr. Chang."

Chang breaks his stare momentarily by glancing over to make eye contact. "Are you in charge?"

"I'm General Sam Austen, commander of Anderson Air Force Base," he replies. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. Oceanic 815 arrived three days ago with one pilot and one passenger. My men found a very peculiar piece of luggage on board."

Chang's demeanor seems irritated and impatient; he knows firsthand what happens when mankind does not fully respect the powers of the Island. "Did any of your men experience nosebleeds, or a state of confusion as if they had travelled through time?"

General Austen nods with hesitation, thrown off by his remark about time travel. "One had a nosebleed but we took him straight to the infirmary."

Dr. Chang comes chest to chest with the General and speaks in a tone as if he were taking charge. "Under no circumstance should you open the package. Because if it were opened, an almost limitless amount of energy would be released; enough to alter the very fabric of time."

General Austen sighs apologetically. "We couldn't wait any longer." He awkwardly steps back and opens a top secret manila folder. Inside; a collection of aging military photographs and documents. He shows Chang a photo of a large bomb hanging from a rope in a wooden tower with mountainous terrain in the background. "The Army nicknamed the bomb Jughead. It mysteriously vanished on an Island in the Pacific in 1954 along with a platoon of soldiers. Somehow this same exact bomb ended up in a coffin in Oceanic 815's luggage compartment."

Dr. Chang inspects the photo up close. "You found a hydrogen bomb? Inside a coffin?" he asks, his stone face shifting to a perplexed look.

"To be more specific; the tip of the bomb; the device used to detonate the hydrogen, which I'm sure as a physicist you know is itself a fission nuclear bomb." He hands Chang a photo of the opened coffin with a frost covered cylindrical bomb securely mounted within. "The strange thing was the device super cooled anything and everything around it. My scientists believe the bomb was somehow reengineered to slowly detonate in reverse; it's as if this bomb had _already exploded_, and now it was essentially _un-exploding_."

Chang inspects the photo of the frozen bomb up close. "Impossible," he mumbles, his expression awestruck.

"But what's even more impossible, Dr. Chang, is the disappearance fifty years ago of an entire Pacific Island occupied by US forces." He pulls from the top secret folder a matching set of aerial photographs; one shows open ocean with a peculiar speck of green, the other shows nothing but open ocean. "The US Navy has revisited the original coordinate of this missing Island for decades; each time they find nothing but seawater. Somehow the organization you work for found it and so did the pilot flying Oceanic 815."

Chang hands back the photo of the frozen bomb, looking smug. "You'll never find it."

"Now that Oceanic 815 has returned, we have everything we were looking for." The General nods to the chopper pilot; the engine throttles back up and the blades begin to accelerate for takeoff. "Three years ago, a Navy submarine surfaced at those coordinates after picking up a signal on radar. They found a man floating on the wreckage of a hot air balloon. His name is _Richard Alpert_."


	87. The Rescue of John Locke p17

_x  
>x<em>

_A strong wind was blowing and the waters grew rough...  
><em>_They saw Jesus approaching…walking on the water;  
><em>_and they were frightened. But he said to them,  
><em>_"It is I; don't be afraid."_

_John 6:18-20_

* * *

><p>One hundred and sixty seven years old. That's over one and a half centuries, and he still looks the same way he did when he was just thirty two. Except for Jacob, Richard Alpert has lived longer than any human being before him. Unfortunately, his extended stay on this earth might soon be coming to an end. He made a horrible miscalculation. Desperate to flee the Island and find Jacob, he left in a big hurry. His vessel for transportation; the hot air balloon provided by the late Henry Gale. His plan was to ride the easterly winds into the shores of Asia. He was aloft for only a few hours before a vicious storm erupted, spiraling him down toward the ocean below…<p>

* * *

><p>Richard braces for impact as the deflated balloon freefalls out of control.<p>

*boom! splash!*

The collision knocks him to the basket floor; he curls into a ball, holding his knees, whimpering like a wounded animal. Ocean water seeps through the woven wood all around him. He gathers his strength and climbs to the rim of the basket as water continues to fill the vessel. Fortunately he packed a radio transceiver in case of dire situations; he switches on the power and turns up the volume.

"May day! May day! May day!" he screams over the wind while clutching the transmit button. "This is Richard Alpert! Position 48-15 South 162-33-2 West! I've crashed my balloon! I'm taking on water!"

The colorful fabric of the balloon spreads across the surface, making the water look like swirled fluorescent paint. The basket turns sideways and partially submerges; fortunately it's buoyant enough not to fully sink. He maneuvers on to the side and holds on tightly, riding the waves as they rise and fall. The rain mixed with ocean mist drenches his face; he blinks continuously to clear his eyes. He shields the transceiver to try to keep it dry, but the speaker sputters as the circuitry inside shorts out. He finds out quickly the basket is not an ideal floatation device; it rolls every time he shifts to keep his balance. He abandons it then wads an armful of balloon fabric into a floating pillow. The idea works; he's able to steady his chest on the fabric without having to kick to stay afloat.

He spins around, looking in every direction, trying to regain orientation. The Island is still close by; he can feel it. He could see its mountains in the distance right before crashing, perhaps still within its radius of reach. Richard screams at the heavens and chucks the broken transceiver into the waves. This is all his fault. He should have known this would happen. He's seen this phenomena many times before; the Island often creates storms to trap people it needs. The Blackrock was tossed ashore in a storm; then the French ship, Desmond's sailboat, Lapidus's chopper; even Jacob's own pregnant mother crashed in a storm. Of course Richard has left the Island many times, but coming and going in a submarine to do what Jacob asked him to do is very different. This time he wants to leave and never come back, and somehow the Island knows the difference.

Richard can sense the Island pulling him back. He fights the current with all his might, kicking his legs and stroking his arms. He's never going back. The Island is no longer the place of refuge he once knew. He despises the temple dwellers. In his eyes, they're all savages; knowledgeable of Jacob's teachings, but full of arrogance and self-righteousness. John Locke was right; everything was happening all over again. The murders, the kidnappings; it was only a matter of time before they all turned on each other. After the murder of Henry Gale, Richard had enough. The Island was meaningless without Jacob. Perhaps if he found him again off the Island, their days together could start all over again somewhere else.

One would think that Richard leaving to find Jacob is a noble endeavor the Island would appreciate, but Jacob is who he is _because of the Island_ and not the other way around. Despite his mother's teachings, Jacob realized at a young age that he was merely human without the Island. He believed very differently from what she wanted him to believe; that is, although mankind is morally corrupt, protecting the Island's sacredness from mankind defeats the very purpose for its sacredness. Although she appointed him as the Island's protector, he never elevated himself higher than anyone else. The freedom to access the Island's supernatural healing powers was something Jacob desired for everyone. So perhaps the meaning for Jacob's disappearance is this; once that level of freedom was attained, _there was no longer the need for his role on the Island_.

Unlike Jacob, Richard never developed a faith in humanity. He's from the real world, full of real tragedies, including many of his own. At his core he's a Catholic. He understands man's fallen nature. He understands there is penalty for sin, and that without some sort of penance or reparation, men will face God's judgment after death. That was the reason he asked Jacob for immortality. Richard didn't necessarily want to live forever, he only wanted to escape judgment. Jacob recognized some of Richard's beliefs were rooted in a fear of death, and that eventually that fear would subside when his faith developed. Richard devoting his life as Jacob's disciple was key to that development.

And now, all alone and miles away from shore, Richard drifts fearlessly into the unknown. He knew leaving the Island meant leaving the protection it offered. At this moment, he's as vulnerable as any mortal lost at sea. The Island wants him back, but it can't make him come back. He's free to live or die. He lets go of the balloon and swims as hard as he can toward the horizon. He imagines another shore far away across the sea and how happy he will be if he ever reaches it. His mind is determined. If he can't find his master Jacob, life is no longer worth living. The storm's strength increases; the waves toss him around like debris in a turbulent river. His muscles grow numb from the struggle. He fights to keep his head above water, realizing each breath could be his last.

Suddenly, he sees something moving toward him. It begins as a faint blur then transforms into a person walking upon the water. The wind and waves have no effect on it. Its face glows brightly like an angel. Richard's heart pumps wildly, excitedly. He's confident it's the Lord's servant coming to rescue him; an angel, a saint, or perhaps even Christ himself? He raises his hand high as the mysterious spirit nears closer, readying his grasp, hoping to grab hold of something solid. His head dips below the surface, anticipating that any moment he'll be miraculously lifted up. The light grows brighter, but nothing happens. Several precious seconds pass by. The urge to breathe burns his lungs. The end seems very near.

Suddenly, a sensation of warmth wraps his body. He can feel the embrace of arms reaching from behind him and over his chest, like a friend's surprise hug from behind. He's rushed instantly to the surface. He breathes through his nostrils and relaxes after realizing he no longer has to tread to stay afloat. The wind and waves have magically subsided. A grassy shore is close by; the trees and terrain are very familiar, yet very different from the Island.

"Don't let go," a soft voice instructs from behind.

A shiver races up Richard's spine. He turns his head slightly; his unshaven face brushes the soft neck of a woman. She drops her hands from his chest to around his waist.

"Isabella?" he asks, his face contorting from shock to elation.

He turns to face her; their eyes meet for the first time in over a century.

"Ricardus, mi Amor," she responds, blinking as her eyes swell with tears.

Richard looks to the shore and recognizes it's his original homeland; an island, part of the chain of the Canary Islands. The tropical water is as blue as the Caribbean and the beach is powdery white. He sees two saddled horses grazing in the grass just beyond the beach sand. He remembers he and Isabella used to ride together on horseback down to the water on Sunday afternoons. This entire place is like a vivid memory brought to life within his soul.

"Is this our new home?" he asks.

She glides her hands up his forearms and gently squeezes. "Someday, it will be. But not now. Not yet."

He tilts his head while looking into her eyes. "I've lived a very long life, most of it without you. I have nothing else to live for, Isabella. I want to come home. I want to be with you."

She leans in and kisses him. "I will always be with you, Ricardus."

Suddenly, a large shadow appears beneath the water, larger than a whale and streamlined like a missile. The surface fizzes with bubbles emanating from the mysterious object. Isabella lets go of Richard's hand and runs toward shore. "The machine is here to rescue you. They heard your cries for help. It's rising from beneath."

"No! Isabella!" Richard pleads for her not to leave. He tries to follow her to shore, but his feet are no longer touching the bottom. The sky darkens; the winds and waves which crashed his balloon return. He swims as hard as he can but is unable to catch her. The new world he's experiencing is transitioning back to his previous reality.

She reaches the beach and turns to him one last time. "Show them the Island, Ricardus!"

* * *

><p>Richard suddenly awakens, lying on a thin elevated mattress. His throat is parched; his eyes irritated from the sting of seawater. The lighting in the room is dim with a reddish hue. The metal walls are covered with pipes and switches, similar to the interior of an Island hatch. A low pulsating hum reverberates in the background.<p>

"Welcome back," says a woman leaning over him, blinding his left eye with a penlight. She twitches it side to side, testing for dilation and reflex.

"I'm back?" Richard asks, confused. "On the Island?"

The room suddenly tips forward. He grips the sides of the mattress to keep from sliding off the bed. An eerie sound of compressing metal echoes from beyond the walls.

"You're not on an Island," she answers, calmly holding a pipe until the room levels out again.

She places a stethoscope to his chest and listens to his breathing. "We surfaced the submarine as soon as we could. The rescue divers found you floating face down." She plucks the stethoscope from her ears and returns them to around her neck. "It's a miracle. You should have drowned but I can't find any indication of water in your lungs."

She opens a medicine cabinet and sorts through containers. "You want to tell me why you were flying a hot air balloon in the middle of the Pacific?"

Richard hangs his head, realizing how his foolishness almost cost him his life. "I was lost," he confesses.

"Lost?" She rolls her eyes, smirking, not sure if he's joking.

He lifts his chin and looks her straight in the eyes, assuring her he's not. "I left everything behind to find the only person that mattered. But now I know; I was only running away."

She pulls up a chair and uses peroxide with cotton to clean a gash across his forehead. "Isabella?" she asks while patting the cotton. "I heard you whispering her name."

Richard flinches from the sting, then relaxes. "She was my wife," he answers, staring blankly. "She died a long time ago."

"I'm sorry." She pauses, sensing the fresh pain in his eyes; pain that was once buried deeply but seems to have been momentarily revived. "I suppose all of us get lost sometimes. That's why we need each other to find our way back."

Richard sits up in the bed, encouraged, ready to begin again. "And what about you?"

"Me?"

She pulls apart a cotton swab, keeping herself occupied with minor therapy while hesitating to share her story. An orange button flashes next to a phone on the wall, saving her from the awkwardness. "Yes?" she answers quickly on the second chime. "Yes. He's awake. Not now. He's still a patient under my care. Interrogate him later if you'd like. What?" She looks over to Richard, her eyes bulging. "You want me to ask him if he buried a nuclear bomb?"

She hangs up quickly and finds another piece of cotton to pick at; she'd rather revert back to the therapy and their previous discussion.

"Long before becoming the Navy's first female ship doctor, I was a fertility doctor. And I lost a very special patient. My sister. She was pregnant, and… she had cancer. I couldn't save her or the baby. I blamed myself, and I vowed never to participate in fertility research again. And now, years later, I'm a doctor trapped in a submarine limited to patients with only testosterone."

She compresses the cotton back into a ball and tosses it across the room, landing it right through the garbage chute. "How's that for being lost?"

Richard nods, agreeing her story is rather bizarre. They share together similarities of living in fear, and learning by stepping out. It's obvious they're both _lost_; perhaps fate has brought them together so they can help each other find their way back?

All this talk about fertility jogs a memory in the back of his mind. Ever since he awoke, he had this nagging sense he's seen her before. He couldn't shake it. If you've lived as long as Richard has, it can be difficult to place a face with the year an event occurred. But now he's certain. It was 1977, the same year of the Incident. She was the doctor that suddenly came to the rescue when Amy Godspeed, Horrace's wife, went into early labor. The baby was in breech and had to be delivered by Caesarean section; she was a mechanic down at the motor pool, who suddenly revealed to everyone in the Dharma Initiative she graduated from medical school. Two weeks later, another medical emergency occurred; she stabilized young Benjamin Linus, who was shot in the stomach by Sayid Jarah.

Richard's dark eyebrows lift as he smiles for the first time since awakening. "Dr. Burke? Is it really you?"

Juliet freezes. She immediately glances down at her shirt, thinking that perhaps he somehow saw her name on her uniform. But it's not like her days working in the hospital when her title was inscribed on her lab coat pocket. The orange button next to the phone blinks again. She ignores the signal, her demanding stare firmly fixed on Richard.

Richard is speechless; he doesn't know where to begin in explaining their connection. His eyes drift over to the blinking button next to the phone.

"I'll get that," he says, holding up his finger.

He picks up the receiver and slowly brings it to his ear. He swallows before speaking, pausing for several agonizing seconds. "I buried the bomb," he says.

Juliet nervously steps backward. She eyes a video monitor in the room and sees the ship captain standing at the helm with a phone to his ear.

"I can assure you, no one will ever find it. I'll deliver it back to the military safely disarmed, but only on one condition."

He looks to monitor and sees the ship captain staring back at him. "I need help hijacking an airliner."


End file.
